Harry Potter and The Promise Ring
by The White Lily
Summary: [HP] [PR] In fifth year, Harry learns that Voldemort is planning to take a hostage to lure him out. For her own protection, Ginny must join him at Privet Drive, prompting a year of self discovery and discovery of the past. COMPLETED BEFORE OOTP
1. Return to Privet Drive

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   


## The Promise Ring - by The White Lily

### Chapter 1: Return to Privet Drive

Harry Potter bit hard on his lip as he sat up in bed drenched in cold sweat for the fourth time that night. He bit hard enough to stop himself from crying out; he already had one bruise on his cheek from earlier that night and a colourful collection of bruises all over his face at different stages of healing. Uncle Vernon wouldn't hesitate to give him another. Harry lay back down in bed and not for the first time, he wished that things could have been different.

He wished that the dark wizard Voldemort had not tried to kill he and his parents while he was only a baby, that his Mum and Dad still lived, and that he hadn't grown up being despised and kept in the cupboard under the stairs by his only surviving relatives. He wished that he could live with his godfather, Sirius Black, but Sirius was still wanted for murders he hadn't committed. He wished that he could stay for the summer holidays with his best friend Ron Weasley, with Ron's kind and loving parents and boisterous masses of brothers. He even found himself wishing he could see Ron's little sister, Ginny, who blushed and ran away whenever she saw him. He wished he could get a good night's sleep. His sleep was always plagued with nightmares of the year before, where he had won the Triwizard Tournament, but Voldemort had turned the cup from the Triwizard Tournament into a Portkey that would transport anyone who touched it straight to him. Voldemort had then used Harry's own blood to regain his body and former strength. Most of all, however, he wished that he hadn't insisted that his competitor, Cedric Diggory, take the cup with him for a tie and that he had never heard the words he heard a million times every night in his sleep. _Kill the spare._ A vision of Cedric's lifeless grey eyes in his slightly surprised face swam up before him. The spare.

Of course all his friends agreed that it wasn't his fault and told Harry he was a hero for bringing Cedric's body home and Harry believed them, a bit. Even though he knew deep down that it wasn't his fault, he still felt overwhelming guilt. The fact remained: if he had not insisted on sharing the win, Cedric Diggory would still be alive. And so he felt guilty.

He relived that entire horrific night in his dreams many times every night, and every time he woke up screaming, with cold sweat running down his body, gasping for breath. If he were back at Hogwarts, he would have willingly gone to Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, for the first time in his life, to ask for a dreamless sleep potion.

But all he had at Privet Drive were the Dursleys. His porky uncle would yell from his bedroom "Go back to sleep, boy! Why we put up with you, I don't know!" or come in and cuff him around the head. At breakfast Aunt Petunia would shoot Harry nasty looks and ask his cousin loudly whether "that horrible boy's screaming" had disturbed his sleep in the night. Dudley would say yes, of course, for although Dudley slept like a log (and a very large log at that) his favourite hobby was getting Harry in trouble.

And so every morning, Harry would be assigned a list of chores so long that he wouldn't be finished until dinnertime. He didn't even write to Sirius about how he was being mistreated because at least the exhaustion took his mind of Cedric for a while. So every night, he would fall into bed, exhausted, only to begin the cycle again.

Always before, when Uncle Vernon had tried to hit him, he had fought back, threatened them with retribution from Sirius, or accidentally made things explode in his fear and rage at his treatment. This summer was different, however. This summer he couldn't shake himself out of depression to do anything about his circumstances. He put up with his infrequent meals and ignored the pain in his stomach from his hunger. He did his chores without complaint or threats of retribution. He hid his bruises from the neighbours, as requested, and did not resist receiving them, lying passively where he had been flung while Uncle Vernon kicked and punched him.

Harry sighed. If only things could have been different. His rough and lumpy pillow pressed against his face as if to block out the world, he slipped back into sleep and began dreaming immediately.

***

He was in a forest. Dark trees arched towards the sky on all sides, seeming ominous in flickering light of a fire in the middle of the clearing. A semi-circle of masked and hooded figures clothed in black robes stood around the fire. Nagini, the large snake whose venom had kept Voldemort alive for a year, circled restlessly, weaving around and between the Death Eaters. In the middle, in front of the fire, stood Voldemort, his hideous snake-like face unmasked and coldly cruel.

"So, my faithful Death-Eaters - how goes the search for a hostage?" asked Voldemort.

A man with white-blonde hair protruding from between his mask and his hooded robe stepped forward. "My Lord, I have the perfect person. In his second year, Harry Potter saved a young girl's life. The resulting bond between them has been seen little since the event, but it is sure to be strong, as the boy came within an inch from death in her defence. Her brother is Potter's best friend and he often stays with her family for a few weeks during the summer holiday. No one will be able to stop him from attempting to save her. Not only is she special to Potter, but also her family are Muggle and Mudblood lovers, heavily connected to Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. It would be a heavy blow to the Order indeed if they were killed."

"Perfect. We will launch an attack to capture this girl tomorrow. Regrettably we will not kill the family, as their grief will spur Harry Potter on. Once we have Harry Potter, we will go back and finish the job. What is her name, Malfoy?"

"Ginny Weasley, my Lord."

***

Harry rolled out of bed with a thud, hitting the floor hard in his panic, and trembling from the overwhelming pain in his scar. Voldemort. After Ginny. He knew that if Voldemort succeeded, he would stop at nothing to get her back. The Weasleys had done so much for him - treating him like a normal boy, accepting him into their family, and providing him with the love he had never known at the Dursleys. If their daughter was kidnapped and tortured or killed because of him, he knew he would never forgive himself.

He pulled up the loose floorboard under the bed for the first time this summer and shakily grabbed a piece of parchment, a quill, and an inkbottle. He wondered briefly who he should write to, deciding on Mr. Weasley. The Weasleys' home was closer to his current location than Hogwarts. Mr. Weasley could easily call whomever he needed to through the Floo network, or take Ginny immediately to safety.

He hurriedly scribbled out a note and folded it. Then he looked miserably at Hedwig, his owl, who had been locked in her cage this summer by the Dursleys. Sensing his distress, she was hopping from foot to foot agitatedly, glaring at the huge padlock holding the bars of her cage closed.

Then it hit him and he wondered why he hadn't used it already; his godfather had given him a penknife with attachments to open all locks for Christmas. Scrabbling once again under the floorboard under his bed, he quickly came up with the item. Unlocking her cage quickly, he tied the note to her leg and said "To Mr. Weasley, as quick as you can." Hedwig rubbed his cheek with her beak comfortingly for a moment, then launched herself off his arm and into the night.

Harry watched her snowy white form until it was only a memory of a speck in the sky and then slumped onto his bed. It was a long time before sleep claimed him and when it did, it was plagued with nightmares. This time the lifeless eyes staring back into his own were Ginny's.


	2. The Arrivals

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   


## The Promise Ring - by The White Lily

### Chapter 2: The Arrivals

"Up! Get up now! You have to make breakfast for my little Duddykins!" screeched Aunt Petunia, rousing Harry from his fitful sleep. Since he had eaten a boiled egg at lunchtime yesterday, Harry knew he wouldn't get any breakfast himself, but he ignored his ever-present hunger pains. He hastily pulled on some jeans and a T-shirt (both of which were four sizes too big, as they had once belonged to his enormous cousin, Dudley), and walked down the stairs to face his family. Almost as soon as he had walked into the passageway, the doorbell rang. "Boy! Get the door and mind you're polite!" yelled Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "Don't worry Petunia," Uncle Vernon's voice continued in a more conciliatory manner, "no one important will see him - no one normal would call at this time of the morning. It's probably some crazy religious freaks."

Harry trudged to the front door and opened it, staring with disbelief at the three figures standing on the doorstep. "… can't wait to try some of those marvellous blueberry muffins Molly made this morning. Oh, hello Harry." It was Albus Dumbledore. Standing beside him was Mr. Weasley and slightly back from the two of them, as though she didn't really want to be there, was Ginny. "Harry," Professor Dumbledore began, with the familiar twinkle lighting up his blue eyes, "we need to talk to you. May we come in?"

"They'll kill me, sir." Dumbledore's eyes widened as he took in the bruises on Harry's painfully thin face and Ginny gasped. Mr. Weasley protectively drew her closer to him.

"That is another reason we have to talk, Harry. You should have told me about this." The twinkle was gone from Professor Dumbledore's eyes and Harry was granted another glimpse of exactly why Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort feared.

Biting his lip nervously and nodding, Harry opened the front door wide and motioned them inside. "They're in the there," he whispered, indicating the kitchen as he attempted to sneak past. "We can talk in the living room."

"Boy? Who was at the door?" Bile rising in his throat, Harry tried to think of an explanation that wouldn't mean he would have to explain the presence of three strange wizards in the house, but came up with exactly nothing. He realised he had taken too long attempting to think of an explanation when Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's sneering faces suddenly froze into expressions of horror. Looking behind him, Harry was surprised to see that Professor Dumbledore had his wand out, aimed directly at Uncle Vernon.

"What is this?" asked Professor Dumbledore, one finger pointing to the most prominent bruise on Harry's face, his voice dripping with cold fury. If it had not been in defence of Harry, it would have been the best impression of the unpleasant Potions master at Hogwarts, Professor Snape, that Harry had ever seen. "You hit a child. A defenceless child under your care. What kind of people are you?"

"We're normal! He's the freak. Why shouldn't we teach him a lesson?" began an indignant Uncle Vernon. "Ungrateful wretch that he is! We put a roof over his head, feed him, and he keeps us up at nights with his screaming and yelling!" Harry's eyes dropped to his shoes and he burnt with the shame of having his headmaster know about his frequent nightmares. But Uncle Vernon was continuing. "He's just like his mother, a freak, just like we knew he'd be. Well we won't put up with any of his freak behaviour in our house. And a good stiff clip around the ear is better than he deserves."

Harry chanced a look up at Dumbledore and was stunned. If he thought that Voldemort had reasons to be scared of the headmaster before, he knew now that he should be running with his tail between his legs. Ginny and Mr. Weasley had come to stand on either side of Dumbledore, their expressions identical with their disbelief at what Uncle Vernon had just said.

After one look at the angry wizard in front of him, Uncle Vernon shrank back with fear, unsuccessfully attempting to hide his wife and bulky son behind him. "If you are quite finished," stated Dumbledore in a cold voice, "I will make with you a deal. I will refrain from cursing you. I will also prevent the boy's godfather from wreaking vengeance."

Uncle Vernon's face suddenly went white with the reminder of Harry's godfather, the convicted murderer, Sirius Black. Of course, Uncle Vernon didn't know that Sirius was innocent, so the threat of retribution seemed even worse.

"We need from you a favour," continued the headmaster gesturing towards Ginny, "Miss Weasley here needs a place to stay for the rest of the summer." Harry's eyes snapped to Ginny, who was looking slightly miserable at the prospect of a summer with the people before her. "We would like you to take her in. We will, of course, provide you with money for her food and board. I'm quite sure that she will be willing to assist Harry with any chores you would like done. We also need to talk to Harry for a few hours. For this service, Harry's godfather and I will forget the pain you have put this poor boy though. I promise you, however, that if you ever touch him again, I will make you wish you had never mistreated him in the first place."

Uncle Vernon's face had gone from white to purple at Dumbledore's suggestion, then back to white again at his last words. Although the words were not particularly threatening, they seemed to carry a weight which made them much more significant. He sneaked a look at his wife, cowering behind his back, and gave a short, sharp nod.

Professor Dumbledore held out his hand to Uncle Vernon, shook the frightened Muggle's hand, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a moderate sized sack of coins. It made a clearly audible clinking sound as he placed it on the table in front of the Dursleys. "The same again at the end of the holidays if Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley have no complaints about the way they were treated." The twinkle was back in his eye as he turned to Harry, "Alright, now where shall we have our little chat?"


	3. Revelations

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   


## The Promise Ring - by The White Lily

### Chapter 3: Revelations

Still stunned by the events in the kitchen, Harry led the way into the living room. He was finding it hard to believe how seriously Professor Dumbledore had taken the blows from his uncle. All through his childhood he had been hit, despised, starved, and forced to labour while Dudley was fed, cuddled, loved and given everything Harry had ever wanted. He had never really imagined that it could be any other way and had just assumed that Professor Dumbledore knew exactly what happened at Privet Drive.

Now that he thought about it, it seemed somewhat silly to have expected him to simply _know_. The knowledge that he didn't have to put up with it any longer suddenly broke over him and he collapsed to the floor in helpless laughter. Just as suddenly, the laughter dissolved and turned to tears. It seemed so petty. Voldemort was back, Cedric was dead, and he was laughing because he no longer had to put up with the treatment he deserved from his relatives.

"Harry." Dumbledore broke through his reverie. All of a sudden Harry became aware of the two adult wizards and Ginny Weasley watching him in tears on the floor. He pulled off his glasses and tried to dash the tears away from his eyes surreptitiously, but gave it up as a hopeless effort. Putting his glasses back on, Harry looked back up into Albus Dumbledore's eyes. The brief flash of concern he saw there was gone almost before he saw it. "Sherbet lemon, Harry?" the headmaster asked, holding out a plastic packet of the sweets to him.

"Um, no thank you, sir." Harry watched in confusion Professor Dumbledore handed out the sweets to Mr. Weasley and Ginny, and then selected one for himself.

"Professor?" Harry prompted the headmaster tentatively.

"Wonderful. Simply lovely. Are you sure you won't have one, Harry? No? Well, I guess you want to know why we are here." At Harry's emphatic nod, Dumbledore finally got to the point. "First we need to hear about your dream."

Harry related all he could remember of his dream, although most of the details had faded from his memory. Then he asked the question that was really bothering him. "Why is Ginny going to stay here? Can't we go somewhere else?"

Professor Dumbledore sighed. "Well, I guess to answer that you need to know the reason that you must stay here. This house is even safer for you than Hogwarts. There is a charm that one can evoke over an orphan staying with his only surviving relatives. Similar to the Fidelius Charm, which was used to hide your parents' house from Voldemort, but not requiring a Secret Keeper. This charm, however, not only keeps your location a secret, but also does not allow across the threshold any person with evil intent towards you, or any person sent by such a person.

"This means that neither Voldemort nor anyone sent by him may enter this house. As for Miss Weasley, as the attempt to get her is indirectly an attempt to get at you, she will be as safe as you in this house."

Harry was silent for a moment as he attempted to digest this. Voldemort could not touch him. It certainly made life at Privet Drive seem a little better. "What about sleeping arrangements? I mean, Ginny can have my bed, but my cupboard is stuffed full with my Hogwarts gear and Aunt Petunia's Garden Club magazines, and the Dursleys would never let me sleep in the lounge room, or anything."

Dumbledore's face darkened for a moment. "Your cupboard? I did wonder when I saw the address on your Hogwarts' letter, but I hoped that it wasn't true. No matter, we have already discussed this, and despite Miss Weasley's most stringent objections we have decided that it is probably best if you both sleep in the same room. This is for a number of reasons I won't go into at the moment, but it is even more important now we know just what sort of Muggles these are."

Harry risked a look at Ginny to find that her face was flaming red, and she was quietly staring at her toes. _Great_, he thought, _she's still blushing and stammering at me. All I need is to have her sleeping in my bedroom and she'll transfigure into a beetroot._ "OK," was all he said though, looking back into Professor Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes.

"Albus?" Mr. Weasley interrupted hesitantly, "I'm not so sure about leaving Ginny here now that I've seen what kind of people they really are. They are defenceless against the Muggles here because they are not allowed to use magic on the holidays. Is there really no other place we can send them?" His face was filled with worry for the wellbeing of his only daughter. Harry felt a momentary pang of jealousy, but quickly squashed it.

"I was just coming to that," said the headmaster. "There is a charm which hides magical activity for the next hour from any form of monitoring. It is little known and never taught to underage wizards because they can then avoid recognition by the Improper Use of Magic Office. I feel that it is an appropriate juncture for you to learn this, both to protect yourselves from the Dursleys and to practice anything you feel you need to during the holidays. I expect you both to be sensible with the freedom this gives you and not to reveal it to anyone except Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger, and then only if it becomes necessary. Under NO circumstances reveal this to Messrs Fred and George Weasley, as I'm not entirely sure that the world as we know it would survive."

Professor Dumbledore's eyes were back to twinkling at full force now. "The charm is simply '_Introverto'_. It lasts for an hour over the immediate vicinity, so it is probably safer to cast the charm again if you move into a different room. Now, is there anything else?"

Harry felt a rush of questions bubbling to the surface. Where was Sirius? What exactly was Professor Snape doing? Was Mrs. Figg across the road the same Arabella Figg that Sirius was to find? Why did Voldemort want him in the first place? Then he looked at Ginny. She was standing there, still looking at her toes, and the expression on her face was terrified. He couldn't ask any of those questions right now or it would scare her more. One question was left. "Sir, can I tell Ginny about some of the things that have happened over the past few years? I think it might help her if she understood a bit better."

"Of course, Harry, you may reveal anything that you wish to Miss Weasley. If that is all, we shall go then." With this, and a twinkle and a smile at both of them, he and Mr. Weasley tapped their wands to their chests and Disapparated. And left Harry looking at Ginny, dumbfounded.


	4. Settling In

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   


## The Promise Ring - by The White Lily

### Chapter 4: Settling In

Harry stared at Ginny, who was still determinedly staring at her toes in an effort not to make eye contact. "Well, I guess I'd better show you around." She nodded mutely and he led her around the ground floor. "Well that was the living room, down there's the kitchen, as you know, down that corridor on the left is the downstairs bathroom, on the right is the laundry. That's my cupboard, and that's about it for downstairs."

Harry led the way upstairs and stopped outside his room. "That's Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's bedroom, Dudley's room, the bathroom, and this…" he took a deep breath and put his hand on the handle in front of him, "this is my room." They walked into Harry's room and Harry looked at it with the new eye of a critic. It was immaculate, as usual, to avoid retribution from the Dursleys. The only real problem with the room was that Dudley's broken toys were stacked in huge piles all around the room, giving it an oppressively small and cluttered look.

"First of all," Harry said, "We need to do something with Dudley's toys and get you a bed, so let's try out this charm of Professor Dumbledore's." Harry dug around under the loose floorboard under his bed to find his wand. "_Introverto_." He turned around to find Ginny still staring at her toes. Determined to break her out of it, he grabbed her by the arm, dragged her over to his bed, sat her down, and sat next to her.

"Look at me, Ginny." She cautiously raised her eyes to his, and for the first time, he noticed that they were red-rimmed from crying. "Look, I'm really sorry that you have to do this. I know we've never really talked, but I would really like to have you for a friend. This won't work if we can't talk to each other. Please treat me exactly the same way you would Ron and I'll try to treat you the same way I treat Hermione." Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "It must have been awful to be told you have to come and live here and I'm really sorry. But -" Harry broke off, not really sure where he was going.

The fact was, this was going to be truly dreadful. Not only was he sharing his room with a girl, but it was with Ginny Weasley - the girl who lost the power of speech and all coordination in his presence. And they were with the Dursleys, who hated him for what he was and would surely extend that courtesy to Ginny. Harry suddenly felt very tired. He tried again. "We need to forget being uncomfortable or embarrassed and work together, or never mind Voldemort," she flinched, as most people in the wizarding world refused to say the Dark Lord's name, "because a month with the Dursleys is going to kill us."

Ginny seemed to consider this for a few moments, then gave a sharp nod, sending a weak grin his way. "Let's see if that charm thing worked. It's probably best if I try something first because you've already got one notice from the Improper Use of Magic Office." She waited for Harry's answering nod, before pulling her wand out of her sleeve and taking a miniature trunk out of her pocket. It was about the same size as the palm of Ginny's hand and she balanced it there for a moment, regarding it thoughtfully. She then placed it in the middle of the floor and cleared a space around it. "_Finite Incantatum_," she muttered, and the trunk swelled to the same size as Harry's.

"What?" spluttered Harry, "Why don't we do that to get the trunks into King's Cross Station?"

"Shrinking something that complicated, with all the magical things inside it, is incredibly difficult and only a really powerful witch or wizard can do it. My dad did this for me and that meant he had to know everything I had in the trunk to make sure it shrank properly. Most students aren't willing to let their parents see everything that they have." she replied with a wry smile.

"OK. I guess we'd better wait a little while before getting rid of Dudley's toys and stuff though, just to make sure that you don't get an owl. Wouldn't want to have five Improper Use of Magic owls lined up at the door!" Ginny grinned again, more widely this time, and Harry heaved a mental sigh of relief at having broken the ice.

"How long should we wait, do you think?"

"How about an hour and then we have to cast the charm again anyway. We'd better go down and introduce you properly to the Dursleys. And I don't know about you, but I need breakfast. I'm starving!"

***

When they reached the kitchen, they found Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley seated in silence at the table. Slightly baffled by their uncharacteristic lack of insults for him, Harry cleared his throat hesitantly, and then decided to give it a go. "Um. Uncle Vernon? Aunt Petunia? This is Ginny Weasley. She's in the year below me at school. Ginny, this is Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley."

"Mr. Dursley. Mrs. Dursley. Dudley." Ginny said, nodding politely to each in turn.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia exchanged an unreadable look, then Aunt Petunia's face moved into the simpering smile she usually reserved for Uncle Vernon's important clients as she turned to Ginny. "Oh my dear, aren't you just a picture. Your hair, such a lovely colour. You know, that's exactly the same colour as my dear sister's was. Come on in and sit down. I'll make you eggs and bacon and some toast. You too, Harry dear. Would you like milk or juice?"

Harry stood there, unable to move in his shock. Ginny was waiting to take her lead from him, but all he could do was stare. Then suddenly it clicked. The Dursleys thought that to make Harry and Ginny's time enjoyable, they had to treat them like customers of Uncle Vernon's whom they wanted to impress. "Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia. I'd be happy enough for the rest of the holidays if you just sort of ignore us and we'll try to stay out of your way."

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia exchanged another look; this one easily readable as relieved, and nodded.

"As long as we both get enough to eat." Harry added as an afterthought, remembering the meagre and infrequent meals he had been subjected to both this summer and the last. Uncle Vernon's face darkened a little, but he gave a sharp nod nonetheless.

At this sign of acceptance, Harry moved over to the stove to cook breakfast as a peace offering. He thought that the Dursleys had had enough upheaval to deal with that day. Ginny moved to his side to assist him, but he waved her away. He was used to being a one-man cook, waiter and dishwasher. Ginny leaned against the counter and smiled at him as he cooked the eggs and bacon quickly and efficiently, finally distributing them evenly between the plates.

Dudley looked like he was about to burst into tears, because he still had to make do with a quarter grapefruit, while everyone else ate bacon and eggs. Uncle Vernon had decided as soon as Dudley had come home from Smeltings that there was no need for the whole house to be on the same diet again. He had demanded "Real food, Petunia. Poor Dudley has to go on this diet, but that's no reason for the rest of us to. If it was me on the diet, I'd want Dudley to be able to eat!" Actually, Harry highly doubted this, but being in no position to dispute this claim, he merely smiled to himself, and cooked whatever he was asked to cook.

So every morning at breakfast, Dudley would mournfully watch every bite go from his parents' plates into their mouths. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would cast sympathetic looks at their son, and glare at Harry, as if it were somehow entirely his fault. This had been the tradition for breakfast every day of the summer so far, but this time, Harry had more food than Dudley did, making him feel infinitely better able to withstand his relations' obvious hatred.

Breakfast was finished in silence, and after washing the dishes, Harry and Ginny excused themselves to go upstairs.

Since no owl had arrived from the Ministry, Harry cast the charm again, and they set to work on Dudley's toys. They first repaired, then shrank each toy until it was a fiftieth the size, and tossed them all into a box which used to be entirely taken up by the full size version of Dudley's Lego.

Once they had finished the seemingly endless task, the room suddenly looked a lot bigger. The only problem was a second bed. Sure, they could transfigure something into a bed, but Transfiguration required complete knowledge of the subject, and a mattress (with all the intricate coils and stuffing inside it) was far more complex than anything Harry had ever attempted.

Ginny finally solved the dilemma by tapping Harry's bed with her wand, and saying "_Duplico_," which created an exact copy of the bed, down to the wrinkles in the bedspread where it had been hastily made.

"Well!" Harry exclaimed, slightly stunned, "I would never have thought of that!"

Ginny flashed him another of her brilliant smiles and Harry knew that this summer was going to be just fine.


	5. Nightmares

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   


## The Promise Ring - by The White Lily

### Chapter 5: Nightmares

Harry came awake slowly, which was unusual. He was used to waking up yelling after a nightmare or to the rapping on his door and his aunt's insistence he get up right this minute. Getting his bearings slowly and fumbling for his glasses by his bed, he wondered what had woken him up. Then he heard it.

A soft voice was crying. "No. I don't want to, Tom. No, no, no. Don't make me! No!" Ginny was thrashing around in her bed, obviously in the grips of a nightmare.

Harry was trying to work out who Tom was, when suddenly it hit him. Tom Riddle was Voldemort's real name. Ginny had been duped into writing to him through a magical diary all through her first year at Hogwarts. By using the diary, Riddle had made her do horrible things, including killing all the roosters at the school and setting an enormous Basilisk on the students.

Riddle had eventually drained Ginny of almost all her life and used her as bait to lure Harry down into the Chamber of Secrets, setting a basilisk on him. However, Harry managed to defeat the Basilisk and Riddle, with the aid of Professor Dumbledore's pet phoenix, Fawkes, saving Ginny's life.

Harry debated briefly what to do, before he crossed the room and knelt beside her bed. Catching her hand, he began to speak soothingly. "It's OK, Ginny, he can't hurt you anymore. He's gone."

Rather than quieting at Harry's words, Ginny began thrashing uncontrollably and tears began to squeeze out from under her closed eyelids. "No! I won't do it! I won't kill him."

Deciding to wake her up, Harry let go of Ginny's hand and began to shake her shoulder gently. "Ginny! Wake up; it's just a dream. Just a dream." Ginny's eyes snapped open and a new flood of tears coursed their way from the corners of her eyes into her hair. Harry watched her sudden blush, as she realised who had woken her from her nightmare, and she rolled over to hide her face in the pillow.

"Do you have that sort of nightmare often, Ginny?" Harry asked her seriously.

Ginny reluctantly turned back to face him and replied in a tiny whisper, "All the time."

"Does your family know?"

"No. Please don't tell them! All they'll do is worry."

Harry considered her seriously for a moment. "OK, as long as you don't tell them how bad my nightmares are, it's a deal. I have five or six per night and they're pretty bad."

"Deal," said Ginny instantly, holding out her hand to shake on it.

When Harry took her hand, he noticed her fingers were trembling, so he didn't release it right away. "Who did Tom want you to kill?"

"You heard?" Ginny buried her face in her pillow again, the treacherous Weasley blush on the back of her neck letting him know just how embarrassed she was. "Can't you guess?" she asked miserably. When Harry shook his head, she continued in sudden understanding. "No, you wouldn't, would you? It was -" she broke off, mouthing for a moment before starting again in a stronger voice. "It was you. He wanted me to kill you for months before you saved me. It was the only thing I was strong enough to tell him no about."

Harry flushed and looked at the floor. "Oh." After a long pause, Harry managed to push away his embarrassment enough to ask, "Do you want to talk about it?"

She gave him a weak smile, but shook her head "Not right at the moment. Maybe later."

"OK, try to get some sleep then." Harry returned her smile and returned to his own bed. Once lying down he found that his head was an incomprehensible swirl of thoughts and he once again found himself wishing for a Pensieve like Dumbledore's. His mother: dead. His father: dead. Cedric: dead. Sirius: on the run from the law. Ginny: in danger of kidnap, torture or death at Voldemort's hands. Wormtail: alive and back with his foul master. And Voldemort: back from the dead, as though he had never left. And it was all his fault.

With these thoughts and more racing uncontrollably through his mind, it was perhaps no wonder that Harry did not fall asleep until long after Ginny's breathing had settled down into the regular rhythm of sleep.

***

"Both of us." _NO!_ Harry screamed at himself, but his dream-self didn't listen.

"What?" _Listen to him! He doesn't want to do it. Don't force him! _Dream-Harry was blissfully unaware. Blissfully noble. Blissfully murderous.

"We'll take it at the same time. It's still a Hogwarts victory. We'll tie for it." Harry could not understand why his dream-self wouldn't listen to him. _Stop! Just stop._

"You - you sure?" _Please Cedric - say no this time. Don't let me do it again._

"Yeah. Yeah … we've helped each other out, haven't we?" _Yeah. Helped him die. _"We both got here." _YOU'LL KILL HIM!_ "Let's just take it together," Dream-Harry continued, oblivious. Or was that malicious? Surely he must hear!

"You're on," said Cedric and his grin was innocent. He didn't know that he was going to die. "Come here," he pulled Dream-Harry to his feet, helping him towards the cup.

"On three, right?" said Dream-Harry. _I'm a murderer._ _Murderer._ Harry was sobbing at this stage, but Dream-Harry didn't pay any attention to him.

"One, two, three…"

"Where are we?" _Don't you know? This is where I killed him. I've killed him._

"Did anyone tell you the Cup was a Portkey?"

"Nope. Is this supposed to be part of the task?" _Murderer._

"I dunno. Wands out d'you reckon?" Cedric's face betrayed the first hint of nervousness.

"Yeah. Someone's coming."

As the familiar black-robed figure made its way towards them, Harry controlled his sobs to start yelling again,_ Now curse them, you idiot. Curse them and you can stop all this!_ Dream-Harry dropped to the ground clutching at his scar and Harry heard the high, cold voice he had been dreading from the moment the dream began.

"Kill the spare."

"_Avada Kedavra_."

A rush of green light hit Cedric and he fell to the ground spread-eagled, his mouth slightly open with surprise. Dead. Harry screamed and sat up, tears pouring down his face. "It was all my fault," he sobbed into the silent night, "all my fault."


	6. Dreams

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   


## The Promise Ring - by The White Lily

### Chapter 6: Dreams

"No, it wasn't," disagreed a gentle voice. Immediately going into a defensive tuck at the unknown presence, it took Harry several moments to realise that the owner of the voice meant him no harm and was in fact Ginny Weasley.

Mutely, she held out his glasses to him and he carefully put them on, looking back into her trusting face. "You don't understand. If it weren't for me, Cedric would have been alive. I as good as killed him. I am a murderer."

Harry turned away, not wanting to see the horror and disgust in her face as she realised what he was. He was surprised when her voice stayed as gentle as it had been.

"It's not your fault. You can't believe that. It's V… Vol… Voldemort." Harry raised his eyes back to hers and saw that she looked quite proud of herself for having got the name out. Her eyes were burning with sympathy. Not the horror and disgust he had expected, but sympathy.

"Do you know how much guilt I went through after all that business with Tom's diary? I still can't believe how stupid I was to believe him. For two years I felt that it was all my fault. All those people were Petrified and they could just as easily have died! And then in the end, you nearly died trying to save me. I will never forgive myself for that.

"And then, after Dumbledore's speech at the end of last year, I realised that exactly the same thing had happened to me as had happened to Cedric. Even though I was kind and good, just because I had crossed the path of an evil wizard, something bad happened to me. I was forced to do evil deeds. Cedric was killed.

"The same thing has happened to countless other people. Your parents were killed. You had to live out your childhood with people who hate you and lock you in a cupboard. And I realised - we can blame ourselves, or anyone we want to, but eventually it comes back to V… Voldemort. And yes, we were tools for evil. We were used. But it wasn't our fault. It's not anyone's fault, except for Voldemort."

Ginny's cheeks were flushed, and she looked apprehensive as she awaited Harry's response to her impassioned speech. "It's not your fault!" she insisted, and caught his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

When did she grow up? wondered Harry, _When did she get so very wise?_

"Thanks Ginny," he managed to choke out, still a little stunned at her outburst. She was always so quiet. Harry looked self-consciously at her hand on his as he said, "Um, we have a deal right? You won't tell your parents?" Ginny nodded dubiously, and he continued a little more reassuringly. "You know that it never even occurred to me to blame you for the whole Chamber of Secrets thing."

Ginny opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a tapping sound. Harry hurried over to the window to let the owl in. He was surprised to find not just Hedwig, but Ron's owl Pig, an owl he didn't recognise, and the Weasleys' owl Errol, who was looking very much the worse for the wear.

He looked quizzically at Ginny, and she raised her eyebrows at him. "Did you forget, Harry? Happy Birthday!"

Stunned at the realisation that he was fifteen, and had forgotten, he sat back down on the bed quickly. How could he forget his own birthday? He looked back at Ginny, who had opened Hedwig's cage to allow the other owls to have a drink and a rest. She then untied the package from the strange owl and it immediately flew off into the night.

Hedwig held out a dignified leg to Harry, allowing him to remove her burden, and nibbled his ear briefly before going to her cage to sleep. Harry then turned his attention to Pig, who was darting back and forth between Harry and the window as if reliving the last (and most exciting!) part of his journey multiple times. Seeker reflexes always at the ready, Harry snatched the tiny owl out of the air and removed the package that was three times as big as him. Harry then tossed him into the cage with Hedwig and Errol, whom Ginny had placed on the bottom of the cage after he had fainted dead away.

Finally, he turned his attention to the small pile of presents lying on his bed. Ginny sat down cross-legged on the other end of the bed and impatiently urged him to open them.

He had a huge cake from Mrs. Weasley, which the card explained was "just in case they're starving you again, dear."

Hermione had got him the book he had wanted in Flourish and Blotts the first time he had been there _Curses and Counter-Curses (Bewitch your Friends and Befuddle your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly Legs, Tongue Tying and much, much more)._ It was accompanied by a long letter, which he put aside to read in the morning.

Ron had sent him a leather wand holster, which strapped to the inside of his arm to hide it from Muggles, and was specially designed for a quick draw. He put the letter from Ron's present away for the morning as well.

He picked up the last present from the pile and turned it over in his hands. He read through the card quickly, before tossing it to Ginny. "It's from my godfather and Professor Lupin," he said casually, waiting for her reaction.

"Why is an ex-Hogwarts professor sending you presents? And why is it addressed to 'Bambi'?"

Harry grinned back at her. "Professor Lupin and my godfather were my dad's best friends. As for Bambi, I assume that's because Dad and my godfather were unregistered Animagi. My godfather can turn into a big black dog and my father was a stag."

He didn't have long to wait as her eyes followed the card down to the signature. However, rather than the surprised exclamation he had expected, she merely narrowed her eyes, and said, "Well that makes a lot of sense. Sirius Black is the famous 'Snuffles' I've heard you lot going on about. I assume he's innocent?" At his assent, she continued, "Well, I expect to hear the whole story in the morning, but for now - let's just see what he's got you!"

Grateful not to have to go into such a long story before opening his presents, Harry began ripping off the paper. Finally, it was open and a handwritten notebook fell out. When he saw the title, tears began pricking at the back of his eyes for the third time in the last day. Hurriedly he blinked them away, and began to riffle through the pages of the book entitled _The Marauder's Notes on Becoming an Animagus._

Finally ready to go to sleep, Harry put all his presents under the loose floorboard under his bed and said goodnight to Ginny. It wasn't long before sleep claimed him and the happy dreams of which animal he would become when he had completed the Animagus transformation paraded through his head for hours until he had his next nightmare.


	7. Love and Family

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   


## The Promise Ring - by The White Lily

### Chapter 7: Love and Family

Harry woke up at six o'clock after what was possibly his best sleep since the tournament. Only two more nightmares had come since the first one and each time Ginny had been at his bedside, assuring him that it was not his fault. The gentle touch of her hand to his soothed him easily back into sleep, so he did not lie awake for hours trying to banish the images from his mind.

Harry opened the door for Ginny, but just as she was about to go through, Harry caught her hand. "Thanks again for last night, Ginny, you have no idea how much it meant to me." A quick smile and a squeeze later, they were both on their way down to the kitchen.

Breakfast was another tense affair, and once the dishes were all clean, Harry and Ginny returned to their room. When Harry was at a bit of a loss as to what to do next, Ginny came to the rescue. "I'd better work on my Charms essay - I've haven't even started it!" She pulled out her writing materials and was soon engrossed in her essay. Remembering the letters from Ron and Hermione, Harry pulled them out and sat on his bed to read them.

While reading Ron's eight-page letter, Harry slowly grew more and more incredulous. By the time he was finished he was shaking his head in disbelief and making short exclamations of astonishment. By the time he had finished Hermione's twenty-one page letter he was hitting his head on the head of the bed in frustration. He looked up at Ginny, who was staring at him questioningly, and helplessly tossed the two letters at her. She caught them deftly and began reading.

Harry watched Ginny as she read. She seemed to be skipping large sections (although he couldn't really blame her, as he had found both letters to be extremely repetitious). He watched her double take at the bottom of page six of Ron's letter with interest. He smiled unconsciously in response to her broad grin in the middle of page fifteen of Hermione's letter. Finally, she was finished.

She looked at him with an expression of some confusion. "Let me get this straight. I just read six pages of Ron complaining about Hermione and Viktor Krum. Then he _finally _admits that he loves her and spends two pages saying he doesn't know whether to tell Hermione and that he knows she doesn't feel the same way, asking for advice, with a tiny half paragraph at the bottom asking how you're doing. He doesn't even mention me!

"In Hermione's letter there were FIFTEEN pages of Hermione complaining about Ron's idiocy and how he insists on whining non-stop about Viktor, who is only her friend. Then," a broad grin split her face again, "there were six pages of Hermione complaining that she didn't know how or why she loved Ron, but she does, and she wants advice on what to do. At least she gave you a full paragraph of 'how are you?'!"

"And that's not all." Harry pulled up the loose floorboard under his bed and showed Ginny a huge bundle of letters. "They're all like that - of course this is the first time they've actually gotten beyond the complaints and name-calling." He rolled his eyes. "Ron sent some letter to Hermione at the beginning of term forbidding her to go to Bulgaria with Viktor Krum. And they haven't exchanged any correspondence since. Of course you and I know why Ron was so worked up about it. Everyone saw this one coming!"

Ginny nodded, "You haven't had to spend the summer with him. He keeps wandering about the house, muttering about 'Vicky' and how Hermione should have better sense. Of course, everyone is teasing him that he actually likes her, but he denies it as though his life depended on it. I'm glad he's finally faced up to it." She laughed. "The twins managed to sneak something into his food so that he couldn't move a muscle for over an hour, and then they sat him down and had a talk to him about how he should go about winning a girl's heart. They were actually amazingly serious, but it was still the funniest thing I ever heard."

"You were there? In this - this talk about girls?" Harry asked, part amused and part horrified at the thought.

Ginny laughed. "Oh, they didn't know I was there; I can be pretty much invisible if I want to be. Especially around home." She passed the letters back to Harry and he skimmed through them considering how to reply. "Is it my imagination," he inquired amusedly, "or could they have copied their letters directly from one another and substituted the names?"

"Oh, no." Ginny replied, "It's not your imagination at all! Now I know how the teachers feel when they get students copying their homework from one another! The real question is: what do we do?"

"What _can_ I do?" Harry sighed. "They both asked me to respect their confidences, so I can't tell them. I guess I'll just have to send them both a letter urging them to tell the other how they feel and hinting that I suspect their feelings may be returned."

"Alright." Ginny sighed as well. "It just seems so stupid! They're both having a miserable summer thinking the other doesn't return their feelings. And they might never owl each other!"

Harry pulled out a quill, inkpot, and several pieces of parchment to start writing a reply, chewing his quill with his frustration at what he couldn't explicitly tell each of his friends.

Soon enough, Harry was finished with his letters. They were fairly short - both saying pretty much the same thing, except addressing different concerns. He told Ron that he was fairly sure that Hermione wasn't serious about Viktor and that he should just owl her, telling her exactly how much in love with her he was. He told Hermione that he thought that Ron simply thought that Viktor was taking her attention away from him and that she should owl him, telling him exactly how much in love with him she was.

He told them both how things were going at the Dursleys, explaining the situation with Ginny to Hermione in a bit more detail. Finally, he admonished them both to make sure to owl the other one, hinting that he knew something they didn't, but couldn't betray a confidence. Since he had no real need to rant repetitively about anything, his letters were both under a page.

When he was finished, he tossed the letters to Ginny, to see what she thought. When she looked up again, she had a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "These letters are awfully similar, Harry!"

"So?"

"So, could anyone really blame you if you mixed them up?" It was amazing really, how much the youngest Weasley girl could look like her elder twin brothers, Fred and George.

"What do you mean?"

"Send Ron's letter to Hermione. Send Hermione's letter to Ron."

The mischievous twinkle caught on in Harry's eyes, as he exclaimed, "I like it! I'm not really betraying a confidence with an honest mistake, am I?" His eyes were wide and innocent, the effect spoiled only slightly by that contagious twinkle. "They wouldn't be able to resist reading the other person's letter! And then they'd KNOW!"

And before he could convince himself that it wasn't really as ethical as he thought it was, he slipped the two letters into the wrong envelopes and handed the two letters to Hedwig and Pig. Pig headed directly out the window in his enthusiasm for getting the job done. Hedwig looked disdainfully at Harry for a moment, before taking off, as though she was making sure he knew that she was an unwilling party in so serious an affair as delivering a letter to the incorrect person.

Harry turned back to Ginny and laughed delightedly. "You think that'll do it?"

"Yes. I certainly hope so!" Ginny also laughed and they shared their mirth, until a sudden thought broke Harry's good mood.

"I've just realised," he said glumly, "I don't know how my parents got together. I don't know anything about them."

"Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine what it would be like to grow up without parents. I'm so sorry." Ginny was staring sadly straight through her Charms essay, obviously not seeing it.

Harry remained in his mournful reverie for several minutes before the silence became oppressive. When he began speaking it was as though a dam had broken and the words tumbled out of his mouth as though they would never stop. "When I was little, I would sit in my cupboard, imagining that I had a family. I would spend hours with my fantasy family, imagining that they were alive and that they loved me. We would go to the beach, or the zoo, or even just watch TV together. I had one little sister, who had glasses like me, and whom I loved very much. I didn't know what my mother looked like when I was little, so I imagined she had black hair like me.

"I imagined that my father was a carpenter and that he would whittle little wooden animals for my sister and me that were so life-like, I always worried they would run away. It was perfect. I was a normal little boy, who didn't make strange things happen and get locked in a cupboard. I always had enough to eat, and my parents were SO proud of me…" Harry trailed off mortified. He hadn't even told Ron any of this and here he was telling Ginny, whom he barely knew. He had just known that having Ginny here was going to be bad.

Harry looked up at Ginny again, who had come to sit beside him on his bed and saw that she had sympathetic tears running down her cheeks. "Tell me about your parents," he said suddenly, "Tell me what it was like growing up in your family."

Ginny smiled gently at him through her tears. "It was wonderful. Whenever anyone has a nightmare, Mum's always there with a hug and a hot chocolate to make us feel better." Harry was regarding her hungrily, soaking up her story like a parched sponge.

"Dinner is, and has always been. chaos, with everyone trying to get what they want passed around the table to them. Especially Christmas dinner. Christmas was always the best time of year. You know we don't just tear into our presents? We divide them all into piles and then sit in a circle and take turns to open a present. It taught us all about the joy of giving because we got to see how everyone reacted to our own presents and other people's presents. It's the thing I miss most at Hogwarts. We had an unofficial competition to have the most presents - but whoever did only got teased about it."

She laughed, a warm, deep laugh, from remembering good times. "Dad almost always won though - he and Mum used to give each other socks and other sorts of small, useful things for Christmas and instead of putting them all together in a package, they'd wrap them individually and pretend to be surprised when they got ANOTHER sock! We kids would always try to compensate by wrapping their presents all together, but we never could compete with twenty pairs of individually wrapped socks!"

Harry laughed for the first time and the world seemed brighter somehow. Ginny continued regaling him with tales of life in the Weasley family - pranks pulled by the twins; secret packets of sugar quills for her from elder brothers, hidden from their mother; the tree by the river where she would go when she needed time out; the sights, smells, and tastes of Molly Weasley's cooking; and so many more little things all brought a smile to the face of The Boy Who Lived. For the rest of the day, the sound of laughter echoed at number four, Privet Drive. And Harry, who so seldom smiled since Cedric's death, was happy for a day.

*********************************************************************

**A/N: ** The thing Harry does with the fantasy family is very close to what I did after my father's death when I was 13. The Weasley Christmas tradition is the tradition of my family - and I would very much recommend it, as it makes for a Christmas focussed on giving rather than receiving. Besides - it heightens the anticipation, and lengthens the thrill! And yes, my parents always cheated with individually wrapped socks.


	8. Run Away

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   


## The Promise Ring - by The White Lily

### Chapter 8: Run Away

The darkness descended again that night as Harry lay in his bed, gazing at the ceiling. He would never know all those little things about his parents. They were gone, and he never knew them. The Weasleys were fantastic, but they could never replace the parents he had lost.

Ginny's stories had inspired a million questions about his own family. Was his mother right-handed or left? Did she sing to him when he was little? What had been his favourite stuffed toy? The stories he had heard about the annual summer Weasley Quiddich Cup filled him with regret about all that he could not remember. Had his father taken him for a ride on his broom while his mother yelled at them from below to be careful? If they had lived, would he have had the little sister he always dreamed ofhaving?

Harry turned restlessly in his bed. What were his parents like at school? He had heard a bit about his father, but knew nothing about his mother. Had she been a bookworm like Hermione? Or had she been a ditz like Pavarti and Lavender? No, she surely couldn't have been.

The even breathing from the other side of the room informed him that Ginny had fallen asleep and he crept out of bed, opening the trunk at the foot of his bed. He pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and his photo album. Picking up the torch on his dressing table, he sat back down and swathed himself in his Invisibility Cloak to prevent the light from waking Ginny.

Flipping quickly through the photos, he found the earliest one. His mother was sitting at the edge of the lake and he could see her Head Girl badge glinting in the pinkish glow of sunset. She was staring pensively into the depths of the lake, seemingly unaware that he was watching her.

She had never turned to see him in this picture and he stared at it, willing her to notice him. Suddenly a cloud moved from in front of the sun and her red hair flamed as the light struck it. Her head turned to avoid the light in her eyes and she saw him at last. "James," she mouthed, looking distressed at his presence, and then indecorously scrambled to gather up her robes and run as fast as she could out of the picture.

Harry watched her leave with some confusion. What was wrong? She had mistaken him for his father, that was plain enough, and everyone always told him how much he looked like his father. But she looked like she hadn't wanted to see his father. Almost as though she were frightened of him.

He flipped swiftly through the rest of the album and found what seemed to be the next photo chronologically. It was of his parents' wedding and his mother gazed adoringly at her husband, waving excitedly to him when she saw her son.

He returned the album and Invisibility Cloak to his trunk and lay down to sleep. Harry pondered the strange behaviour of the photograph for at least an hour before slipping into an uneasy sleep. In his dreams, when his mother emerged from Voldemort's wand, she ran from him, screaming "Not Harry, please not Harry," and a grinning Voldemort shot the killing curse at her undefended back, laughing the cold, high laugh Harry heard whenever the Dementors were near.

Harry awoke with a start, breathing heavily as though he had just run a mile. He didn't think he had cried out, but nonetheless, Ginny was sitting sleepily on the side of his bed. "Are you alright, Harry?"

"Yeah," he breathed, although he didn't sound very convinced. Ginny was gently stroking his hand as she had taken to doing after his nightmares and she frowned at him fuzzily, "No, you're not. Why don't you tell me about it?"

Harry briefly explained the incident with the photo, then the dream. "So what do you think it means?" Ginny let go of Harry's hand and put her head down on the pillow beside his, staring at the ceiling.

"Well the dream?" she sighed tiredly. "I don't think that means anything. As for the photo - maybe they'd just had a fight?"

"I don't think so. She looked really, well, anguished. Like something was tearing her up inside. Like she couldn't stand something she'd done." Harry paused, considering whether he could tell Ginny, then continued softly. "I know how she felt."

"Oh, Harry." There wasn't much anyone could say to that, so the two lay in silence for quite some time, before Harry looked back at Ginny. She had fallen asleep again. Harry lay there, listening to her breathe, unable to push the images of his mother running from him out of his mind.

***

Harry was still awake what must have been half an hour later, when Ginny began to twitch beside him. "No!" she moaned weakly, "No, I don't want to." Harry watched her sleeping face twisted in pain and touched her hand gently as she had done to him when he had had the nightmares. She calmed slightly for a moment, and then continued her cries. "No, Tom. I won't kill him!"

Harry considered what she had told him earlier that day about how her mother's hug and hot chocolate had always cured her nightmares. He had never really been comfortable with hugs. Having never received them as a child, the few he had been given by Hermione and Mrs. Weasley had been awkward and embarrassing. He cautiously reached one arm over Ginny and pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms tightly about her middle. She immediately quietened and snuggled slightly before slipping into normal sleep.

He stiffened slightly at her instinctive snuggling, but relaxed again a moment later. Really, he thought, as he held the unconscious girl, hugs weren't all that bad. The images of his mother running away from him seemed further away and harder to grasp and Harry finally fell into a peaceful sleep.


	9. Aftermath

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   


## The Promise Ring - by The White Lily

### Chapter 9: Aftermath

There was light pouring in through the window onto Harry's face when he awoke the next morning. He blinked, his eyes grainy, trying to work out why the sun was shining on his face. He never slept past six in the morning, because of his nightmares, and the sun didn't hit his window until at least ten. He was holding onto his pillow tightly and it was warm and heavy in his arms. But no, that wasn't right. His pillow was still under his head.

The other possibility for the warm and soft something in his arms came to mind all too quickly and Harry jerked suddenly into full wakefulness. Ginny had half opened her eyes and looked bemusedly towards him as he stared down at her. "Ron?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep. Harry stared at her for a second longer and then extricated himself from her and got up. Ginny went back to sleep immediately.

Harry eyed the sleeping figure lying in his bed warily. Her even breathing and peaceful countenance did nothing to sooth his fears for the moment: he knew that the fragile friendship they had forged over the past two days was in danger of crumbling. The patch of sunlight from his tiny window that had woken him reached Ginny and made her hair flame red for a moment, reminding him strikingly of the photograph of his mother. Harry turned and fled downstairs to wait for the time when Ginny awoke.

The rest of the day passed in a manner strangely reminiscent of Ron and Hermione's behaviour towards one another after the Yule Ball. Once Ginny woke up, she was excruciatingly polite to him, apologising profusely for all manner of minor things, but steadfastly ignoring the fact that she had woken up in Harry's bed that morning. Harry responded in a similar vein, but groaned inwardly: this was exactly the situation he had dreaded. As he lay on his bed that afternoon, staring at the ceiling, he sank back into the morbid thoughts that had occupied his mind for the past weeks since he returned to Privet Drive. Why him? Why did everything always have to happen to him? Why couldn't things have been different? He wished…

Actually, he wished a lot of things. For the rest of the afternoon, fantasies roamed in his brain. Fantasies where his parents hadn't died; where he was living with Sirius; where he was playing professional Quiddich; where Cedric hadn't died; where Voldemort hadn't returned. The thoughts did not make him feel any happier, they only sank him deeper into his depression. Eventually, in the late afternoon, Harry fell into a fitful sleep, his dreams filled with amorphous might-have-beens, and dark, shadowy fears.

***

Harry woke again, breathing hard, and biting his lip. It was hard to keep from crying out, to keep the sobs from wracking his body loudly in synchrony with the tears running down his cheeks, but it was even more essential since the incident with Ginny. The metallic taste of blood informed him that he had broken the skin on the inside of his lip. The nightmares were slowly but surely getting worse.

He had slept straight though dinner; after his first nightmare had awoken him he heard a stilted conversation from the kitchen, directly below his room, discussing the washing up. The second nightmare had awoken him before Ginny had gone to bed, but he saw now that she lay in bed asleep.

Harry watched her as she lay in repose, unaware of his scrutiny. Her face was relaxed, with all traces of embarrassment gone. She breathed evenly, the duvet rising and falling softly, her red hair fanned on the pillow. She was not a sexual or romantic interest to him; that was not why he had enjoyed holding her in his arms the previous night. The comfort he had drawn from her then fulfilled a much deeper emotional need. He supposed that her reaction today had hurt all the more because of the fact that it was the first time he could remember having ever been held in his sleep.

Aunt Petunia, of course, had never showed the slightest hint of affection towards him: that was saved for her "precious Duddykins." One of his first memories was skinning his knee falling from a ladder, where he had been cleaning the windows of the ground floor. It had not been much of a fall, but he had sat on the concrete path with blood dripping from the wound, and tears running down his face as he cried from the pain. Aunt Petunia had come outside to see what the commotion was and he had held out his arms to be comforted. She had brushed him aside and brusquely told him to get back up the ladder and to make sure to clean the blood up when he was finished. He had no idea how old he had been at that stage, as is often the case with early memories, but he did remember that he had not asked for comfort from his relatives ever since. He had not cried again until his conversation with Professor Dumbledore in the hospital wing after the race for the Philosopher's Stone. Now it seemed that he cried all the time.

He realised, of course, that such a change in behaviour probably meant that he was seriously, medically depressed. He was apathetic to most of the things that he had enjoyed before and he had considered suicide on multiple occasions, but always decided that would be an even bigger betrayal of his parents and of Cedric. Perhaps it was this depression that had prompted his reaching out to Ginny to receive the comfort of a mother from her. Or perhaps it was her striking resemblance to his mother. Whatever it was, however, that had prompted his inappropriate actions of the night before; he knew that his friendship with Ginny was probably irreparable.

Ginny twitched in her sleep: a sure sign of the beginning of a nightmare. Sure enough, within a minute, she was thrashing, moaning, and crying. Harry moved to her side, but his hand hovered above hers, unsure whether she would welcome his comfort. Before he could decide a course of action, however, her whole body convulsed violently and she screamed and woke up.

When she had recovered enough to notice Harry kneeling silent and unsure by her bedside, she hurled herself into his arms and began sobbing on his shoulder. "He –" she started brokenly, her voice muffled by the collar of Harry's oversized pyjamas, "Voldemort … he … said I was evil … must be … Chamber of Secrets … had Ron … told me to kill him … _Avada Kedavra_ … I did it … he just died … fell to the ground … just died like that spider … Professor Moody's class … he just died … I am evil … I must be … eyes … open … staring at me … just died." She finally gave up her tortured narrative and cried wholeheartedly on Harry's shoulder. He tentatively wrapped his arms around her and sat on her bed, pulling her half into his lap and rocking her gently, murmuring the comforting words he wished he had heard all his life into her ear.

Finally, the storm of her weeping passed, leaving her with just a sniffle or a hiccup every now and then. "Do you want to talk?" Harry murmured softly.

Ginny removed herself from his lap awkwardly, took a deep breath, and began to speak. "Ron and I were really close when we were younger. Even though we never shared a room, we had this connection, and whenever one of us was a bit down, the other would know. It wasn't as strong a connection as the twins, but we still did everything together and almost read each other's minds. When the twins pranked one of us, we usually worked out some way to get them back together.

"I think that's what made me so vulnerable to Voldemort. My brother, my best friend, had left me behind at Kings Cross Station when he first went to Hogwarts and he didn't want anything to do with me anymore. It was Harry this, and Hermione that, and 'No Ginny, I've got homework to do.' I'd never been so lonely in my entire life. And Tom… He was so nice. I should have known he was evil, but I didn't see through him. Or maybe I did, maybe I am evil."

Harry paused before replying, formulating his response carefully. "Ginny, you have about as much possibility of being evil as I do. You were right, you know, that first night you were here, when you said that it wasn't your fault, any more than any of the things that have happened to me are my fault." She looked back at him, her eyes watery and red from tears, her face blotchy. "Thank you," she whispered in a small voice. "Will you…" she started, but broke off, shaking her head.

"Ginny, if there's any way I can help, please tell me." Harry's heart went out to the frightened girl who had been taken out of her home at his request. It was his responsibility to make sure that she did not suffer because of it.

Ginny blushed. "It's a bit embarrassing really. I didn't tell you this earlier, but when I had a bad nightmare, Mum would come and comfort me like I said, but after she left, Ron would sneak down and climb into bed with me, and hold me until morning. I've missed that ever since I went to Hogwarts, because I never told anyone about my nightmares."

Harry lay down beside her and pulled her against him, unable to suppress a grin of elation. "Of course. You know, I really did have a good night's sleep last night – I haven't slept that well for ages. Did you feel the same way and we spent this day tiptoeing around each other for nothing?"

Ginny giggled weakly. "I suppose so."

Those were the last words that were spoken that night, in the dark, in the smallest bedroom at number four, Privet Drive – that particularly normal house where two extraordinary people twined as one in the same bed, silently drawing comfort from one another, together banishing their nightmares.


	10. The Spy

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   


## The Promise Ring - by The White Lily

### Chapter 10: The Spy

The scene was the same dark forest as had been the meeting place earlier in the summer. Wormtail was standing in his place, wringing his hands and obviously terrified, although he was desperately attempting not to show it. The other Death Eaters were also showing some signs of apprehension: the occasional twitch of the head, the slight shifting between feet, or the nervous clenching and unclenching of a hand. Harry noticed, however, that no Death Eater indulged in any nervous motion that would bring his hand anywhere near to his wand.

Voldemort was pacing purposefully around the circle, directing glares at the masked faces. "Fools," he hissed, his ceaseless movement continuing to disconcert the circle. "Fools!" he shrieked suddenly in his high-pitched voice, spittle flying from his thin lips, and causing several of the black robed figures to flinch involuntarily.

"I will have that Weasley girl!" Voldemort screamed at the uncaring sky. "Why have you not found her by now?" He spun, pointing directly at one figure in the circle. "Malfoy!" His voice had dropped to a whisper, but it lost none of its sheer rage. "Tell me."

Malfoy dropped to his knees immediately, lowering his face and not daring to look in into the Dark Lord's furious face. "We cannot find her, My Lord."

"Why not?" came the enraged whisper once again.

"No Locating Charms work on her. We tried everything, Light or Dark. She must have been warned My Lord; we must have a spy in our midst. There is only one protection spell which could produce these results."

The Dark Lord made no response, merely waiting for his cringing underling to continue. He glared at the Death Eater, his slitted red eyes whirling with dark orange flecks.

"It must be the Fidelius Charm, My Lord," Malfoy at last spoke up.

"And have you performed the spell to identify the Secret-Keeper?"

"Yes, My Lord, but there are no results. I don't understand it, My Lord. She seems to have disappeared without a trace."

Lord Voldemort's voice remained at that deadly calm whisper as he continued. "Then try it again. Snape!" A tall figure stepped forward, bowing low. "I want you to help Malfoy. Use your knowledge to amend Malfoy's potion. I _will_ see results. We need to apprehend the right person first time; it takes a great deal of time to break an _honourable_ person," he sneered, "and we need to get the girl before she goes back to Hogwarts. Don't fail me." The slitted red eyes whirled faster, narrowing with cruelty, as he turned back to Malfoy, and then he struck with the speed of a snake. "_Crucio_."

***

Harry sat up in bed clutching his scar from the pain that had woken him, but far from feeling frightened, or worried, he considered dancing for joy. They couldn't find Ginny! She was safe. She was safe. She was propped up on her elbow beside him in bed, looking at him with an expression that spoke of concern. Harry took a deep breath. "You're safe. They can't find you. They think you're under the Fidelius Charm and are trying to search for your Secret-Keeper."

Harry paused for a minute watching Ginny's face melt into a slightly insecure smile. As he tried to run over his dream again to reassure her, he found the details fading. "I need to write it down," he said desperately. "I'm losing the details. Why does this always happen?"

Ginny grabbed her Potions homework and turned it over, giving him the quill and ink she had been using before bed. He hurriedly scribbled down what he could remember, which wasn't really much.

Can't find Ginny

Think she's under Fidelius

Can't find Secret-Keeper by magic

Going to keep trying

Malfoy got Cruciatus

Harry tossed the summary to Ginny and she looked it over carefully. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? It might help jog your memory."

Harry waved a hand to encourage her to go ahead. "Who said that I was under Fidelius?"

"It was –" Harry wracked his brain, but couldn't remember a thing. "No, I can't remember."

"Was there anything in particular they were going to do to keep trying?"

"Yes, they were –" Harry groaned in frustration. "I know they were, I just can't remember what! Oh this is hopeless. Think of all the things I'm missing." Ginny added the fact that they were trying something different to find the "Secret-Keeper" under the current summary.

"Do you think they'll try to find my Secret-Keeper by torturing my parents or something?"

"No. I don't remember why, but I remember that they won't." Ginny added the information to the list.

"Then won't they go after someone else and forget about me? I mean, Ron or Hermione or my parents would probably make just as good hostages as far as you're concerned."

Harry laughed. "When I'm spying on Voldemort, I sort of sense how he's feeling and get a feeling of the way his mind works; that much I _can_ remember. He's incredibly obsessive. It drives him insane when his minions can't get what he wants and he focuses on that thing until he gets it, forgetting any ways around the problem. He went to a great deal of trouble to make sure that it was _my_ blood that was used to resurrect him even though any witch or wizard who hated him would have done.

"Voldemort's so obsessive that now that they've found the ultimate hostage for me, he can't really understand that Ron, Hermione, your parents, or even Colin Creevey would probably do exactly the same thing." Harry paused, a certain revelation coming to him. "Maybe it's because to a certain extent he can understand what we have between us. I'm sure that he can't understand my friendship with Ron and Hermione; he probably thinks I would just cast them aside if they became inconvenient. Even though he doesn't understand the friendship between us, he knows that you and I can't just ignore each other if the other is in trouble because of the bond formed when I saved your life."

Ginny smiled at him weakly at the reminder of her life-debt to Harry, before scribbling down his thoughts on Voldemort's possible plans. She sucked thoughtfully on the end of her quill for a moment. "One last question. Why did you wake up?"

Harry puzzled over that for a moment and replied, "Well, I don't think I can sleep through one of the Unforgivables. Any time someone casts one of those, my scar hurts so much that I wake up. This time, it was the Cruciatus Curse on Malfoy. Do you think that could be useful somehow?" Ginny shrugged doubtfully, so Harry went on. "Now it's my turn. Did you know I was dreaming?"

"I could see that you were having a nightmare, but something told me not to wake you up. It was weird, you weren't moving around like normal. You were just as stiff as a board and both of your hands were up on your scar. Through your hands I could see that your scar was bright red and I could feel the heat radiating off from it when I sat beside you. I thought it might be an important dream, so I just watched you. Then you convulsed and scr—" her mouth twitched slightly, "yelled and sat up. The moment you woke up, your scar went back to normal." Ginny paused a moment. "You know what we need to do now, don't you?"

"What?"

"Send an owl to Dumbledore!"

Harry knew that she was right. But somehow it seemed a little pointless, as though Dumbledore knew from a better source already. Maybe it was something else he didn't remember from his dream.

Hedwig was still delivering the switched letter to Hermione, but by the time he had finished writing his letter to Professor Dumbledore her snowy form had soared in through the window. She wasn't carrying a letter, so Harry had to suppress his curiosity about whether he and Ginny's plan to give Ron and Hermione a push in the right direction had worked. The obviously exhausted owl headed straight for her cage to gulp some water, then put her head under her wing.

In the end they decided to wait until morning to send the letter to Professor Dumbledore, giving Hedwig the chance to recuperate overnight. Harry added a postscript to his letter, asking if there was some faster way to get mail to him if he had another dream. Finally the duo went back to their separate beds to catch some more sleep. The separate beds lasted until Harry's next nightmare, when he sneaked in beside Ginny. They slept peacefully for the rest of the night.

*********************************************************************

****

A/N: If you haven't already, now is an appropriate time to read the outtake I have written - [Mixed Letters][1]. You know you want to find out what happened when Ron and Hermione got their letters!

   [1]: http://www.sugarquill.net/read.php?storyid=1167&chapno=1



	11. The Attic

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   


## The Promise Ring - by The White Lily

### Chapter 11: The Attic

When they woke the next morning they found a note Aunt Petunia had left, saying that she was out doing the shopping with Dudley. Harry and Ginny had taken the opportunity to search the attic. It was dusty and absolutely covered in cobwebs. They were coughing and sneezing uncontrollably, but they were on a mission. Ginny had suggested that since wizards' possessions usually had fire-proof and loss-proof charms on them, the Dursleys would not have been able to burn, sell, or give away any items which had been given to them by Harry's parents or even by the Ministry of Magic after their death.

They had been shifting boxes for almost an hour when they struck gold. Right at the back of the attic, where the roof was so low that Harry was on his belly trying to reach it, was a small box. The lunchbox-sized carton, disguised with an old moth-eaten blanket, was buried behind a scuffed and worn-looking chest of drawers Harry didn't remember. It had calligraphic writing on the top, which looked as though it had been done with a quill and ink. When the dust was swept away it read, "Ministry of Magic Coronary Office: Personal effects of James and Lily Potter."

Harry shot a look of triumph back over his shoulders at Ginny and wriggled the wedged-in box carefully out of its hiding place, meticulously arranging the blanket to look like it was still there.

"Let's go back to my room to open it – we don't want to get caught up here!" Harry cast a quick spell to redistribute the dust evenly, closed up the entrance to the attic and put away the ladder. Almost with the air of a funeral procession, the two walked back to his room on silent feet, Harry protectively clasping the box close to his chest.

Once sitting safely on his bed, Harry closed his eyes. All those years he had lain in his cupboard imagining a family, this box had been mouldering in the attic. He hovered between rage at his relatives for keeping it from him and joy that he had found it now, finally settling on a mixture of resignation and contentment. He opened his eyes to find Ginny regarding him quietly, although her excitement was palpable, and he hugged the box tightly for a moment longer before setting it carefully in front of him.

Harry slit the tape on the top of the box carefully with his thumbnail, reminded forcefully of his first real Christmas at Hogwarts, where he had not torn into his presents as Ron did, but slowly unwrapped them, making the incredible anticipation last longer.

Inside the box was an envelope. Harry pulled it out, lifted the flap, and slowly slid out the sheaf of parchment inside. In violet ink, and signed at the bottom with a flourish, was the three line coroner's report for his father.

Mr. James Edward Potter

Victim of Avada Kedavra

Morbido Fascination, Coroner, Ministry of Magic

The page beneath it was a similar report for his mother. And below that was a third page, listing the contents of the box.

Found on the person of Mr. James Potter

> > - _1 full set of clothes (buried with deceased)_
>> 
>> - _1 pair spectacles_
>> 
>> - _1 gold pocket-watch with gold chain_
>> 
>> - _1 gold wedding ring_

Found on the person of Mrs. Lily Potter

> > - _1 full set of clothes (buried with deceased)_
>> 
>> - _1 gold wedding ring_
>> 
>> - _1 gold engagement ring_
>> 
>> - _1 silver serpent Promise Ring on leather cord_

Harry looked up at Ginny again, handed her the three pages, then started looking through the items in the box. First he tried on his father's glasses and found that the world seemed sharper with this pair than with his own. It wasn't really surprising. The Dursleys had only bought him glasses when the school nurse had threatened to file for child abuse when he couldn't see the blackboard in second year. He had not had his prescription checked since then. The frames also fit his somewhat bigger face better, and he didn't have to stretch the arms out to the side to reach his ears.

His father's pocket watch was a thing of beauty. The front was carved with an image of a stag, a dog and a wolf, with a full moon hanging above the trio. Harry squinted briefly at the small blob that might have been a rat between the front paws of the wolf, then decided he didn't really want to know. When he touched the catch on the side, the top of the watch popped open. The face was carved an image of a lily, and the six hands were labelled in the same manner as the Weasley's family clock.

The two hands labelled "Lily" and "James" still pointed to "mortal danger," obviously a remnant of their last moments, while Sirius' and Remus' hands pointed to "work". Harry chuckled at the position of the hand labelled with his own name – "prison." The last hand, Peter's, was pointing to a spot marked, "hiding, you dirty traitor." Harry blinked at that. Obviously the labels on the edge changed according to what was necessary.

Harry passed the watch across to Ginny, who gasped at the intricate carvings, and grew quiet at the position of Peter's hand. Realising that he had forgotten to explain to Ginny all about Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, and the betrayal of his parents, he scooped out the four rings remaining in the box and rolled them idly in his hand as he told the story of his third year.

Ginny was a very good audience, gasping when Ron was dragged under the Whomping Willow, scowling appropriately at Snape's interference in the Shrieking Shack, and she was horrified at Professor Lupin's transformation into a wolf and Wormtail's subsequent escape. She almost cried with relief at Harry's Patronus and when Harry described he and Hermione's time travelling to rescue Sirius and Buckbeak, she lurched forward and engulfed him in a hug to rival her mother's.

"So as soon as he's free, you can escape these horrible people and go to live with him? That's wonderful!" She sat back on her heels, her face alight.

Harry nodded without conviction. "Unfortunately, I don't see that happening any time soon. Wormtail's a rat and it suits him: he's a sneak and he's awfully good at surviving. I just can't see him getting caught."

They sat in silence for a minute after that. Harry broke the mood by examining his parents' rings more closely. "Ginny, what's a Promise Ring?" The small silver ring was fashioned in the shape of a snake curled in a circle. Tiny emeralds marked its eyes; it was possibly the most life-like piece of jewellery Harry had ever seen.

"They're really rare – incredibly expensive and difficult to make, but they're a symbol of love between two people. Sort of like an engagement ring, but more meaningful. I've never seen one before. Your parents must really have been in love, Harry."

Harry held the ring tightly in his hand, and was suffused with an overwhelming sense of warmth and love. A sharp overtone of sadness pierced through the sensation, and Harry was struck once again by the reality of his parents' absence. Pushing the feeling down firmly, he examined the other three rings.

His mother's engagement ring had a single ruby with a triangular diamond on either side of it on a gold band, and the matching wedding rings were plain gold. He threaded the three rings onto the leather cord with the Promise Ring and hung it about his neck. It felt odd, because he had never worn any kind of jewellery before, but it made him feel a closeness to his parents that he had only felt before while looking through his photos or under his father's Invisibility Cloak.

Taking the watch back from Ginny, he carefully pinned the end of the chain into the pocket of his jeans. He opened it again, gazing at the face. Suddenly, he was struck with a thought. This watch said that Wormtail was alive and a traitor. Would it be enough to free Sirius? Quickly explaining his theory to Ginny, he grabbed a piece of parchment and wrote a lengthy letter to Sirius, describing the situation and thanking him for his birthday present. Now all he had to do was wait for Hedwig to return, and he might be able to get a godfather again!

The rest of the day seemed to stretch out to interminable lengths, with Harry jumping at the slightest noise, in the hope that Hedwig had arrived. Harry tried to start on his summer homework, but even _The Marauder's Notes on Becoming an Animagus _didn't manage to hold his attention for more than an hour.

Finally it was bedtime. He left the window open just in case she arrived in the night. Harry ignored Ginny's amused glance and brushed aside the thought that Hedwig would probably take several days to get all the way to Hogwarts and back again. And despite the tension of his suppressed excitement, the now familiar sense of sleeping next to Ginny eased him almost immediately into a peaceful sleep.


	12. Hedwig Returns

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   
The Promise Ring - by The White Lily Chapter 12: Hedwig Returns 

Hedwig did eventually return.

Over the past few days, Harry had tried to read _The Marauder's Notes on becoming an Animagus_, but it was so intensely technical that Harry had given up in frustration. Back at Hogwarts, with a good set of Transfiguration dictionaries and Hermione's help, perhaps he could have made some progress. But right now all he could do was set it aside and try to work on his summer homework.

In a Herculean effort at putting off his Potions essay, he had spent most of the previous day explaining to Ginny the events, not only of his third year, but of his first and fourth years as well. Even that had not delayed the inevitable need to do homework. The topic, "In four feet or less, identify all possible substitutions for the common Deflating Draught," brought to mind the time he had blown up Goyle's cauldron to allow Hermione to retrieve some ingredients from Snape's private stores. He chuckled to himself at the memory of all the Slytherins covered with Swelling Solution. The chuckle quickly turned to a shiver as he recalled Snape's threat afterwards. Hedwig's warm weight settling onto his shoulder drove all other thought from his mind.

Glad to be able to delay further work on his essay, he stroked her briefly and carefully untied the package from her leg. There were three envelopes attached; one addressed to him in a bright blue ink that reminded Harry of Dumbledore's eyes, and one each for him and Ginny in the green ink usually on school letters. Harry passed Ginny her letter and scanned his school letter first. It was fairly standard, there was a whole set of new books for this year, most having something to do with O.W.Ls. Harry groaned inwardly. He had entirely forgotten about the O.W.Ls this year!

Harry wasn't even too certain that he was up with the class in anything except Defence Against the Dark Arts. He had been exempted from examinations the previous year because of the Triwizard Tournament and it hadn't seemed important at the time to practice anything except his curses and hexes. Pushing the thought out of his mind, he reached for the second letter and opened it carefully.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Thank you for telling me about your dream so promptly. It will be extremely useful to have your input on Voldemort's plans and thoughts throughout the coming conflict. Please try your utmost to remember everything you can about these dreams, as even the smallest thing can help with identifying locations and intentions.

The package contains a leather satchel. A similar one hangs on the side of my desk, and whenever you put a letter into it, the letter will be instantly transported to mine. I can also communicate with you in a similar manner. It may be best for you to send any mail for Snuffles to me first and I will find a way to pass it on to him without compromising his location.

Once you get back to Hogwarts, I would like you to come to see me whenever you have a dream. The password to my office is "Canary Cream," a sweet I was introduced to by Messrs Fred and George Weasley. I am afraid Fawkes has not looked at me in quite the same way since that occasion.

Have a pleasant summer!

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock

Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards

Harry stifled his laughter and tore into the package, finding the promised leather bag. He felt around inside to see if Professor Dumbledore had sent him anything yet and drew out an old and tattered piece of blank parchment. Ginny looked at him with a puzzled expression as he began to laugh out loud, no longer able to contain his sheer happiness. "Come here, Ginny," he said, making room next to him on the bed.

Grabbing his wand, Harry held it to the parchment and spoke again. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." The parchment blossomed to life and Ginny gasped as she saw the greeting from Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs and then the tiny dots labelled as teachers roaming about the castle.

"This is —" she started, slightly choked for words. "Your father made this?"

"With his friends," replied Harry proudly. "Isn't it brilliant?"

"I can't believe Professor Dumbledore gave it back to you!" she said, shaking her head. "He must have found it in the fake Moody's office. It must have killed Fred and George to lose it."

"Actually, they said they'd learned everything on it and didn't need it any more!" said Harry with a grin. "Of course," he continued, leaning towards her conspiratorially, "they don't know anything about my connection to the actual map-makers. I'll tell them sometime just to see the looks on their faces when they find out that Moony taught them Defence Against the Dark Arts!"

"Oh, did I tell you that they found some investor to help them start up their joke company? They're really going all out – they've got six or so cauldrons bubbling all the time because on the holidays they can only really do the Potions stuff." Harry turned slightly red and Ginny looked triumphantly smug. "It _was_ you! I thought it must have been you. Who else would value jokes at more than a thousand Galleons?"

Harry blushed and tried to change the subject. "Did you see this?" he asked, indicating the letter from Dumbledore. "It seems that your brothers gave Professor Dumbledore a Canary Cream."

"They did _what_? Oh, Mum's going to kill them for that!" cried Ginny before launching into a scathing denunciation of her twin brothers. Harry had never seen her angry before, but she seemed to be doing a fair imitation of the sabre-tooth tiger Harry had imagined the first time he had met Mrs. Weasley. Harry had noticed that Ginny looked a lot like her mother at times. It was not so much a physical similarity, as Ginny resembled her father more. It was very noticeable though, in her presence, her manner, and in the gushing way in which they both spoke. He supposed he had never noticed it before because of her infernal shyness.

Harry stifled a laugh at a particularly acerbic remark and hurried to defuse her furious tirade before it got too out of control. "He didn't seem too upset by it. He's even made it the password for his office this year!"

Ginny stopped mid rant, gaped at him for a moment, and then began to laugh helplessly. "I always said he was mad!" she managed to gasp eventually and Harry joined in the laughter at the thought.

***

Ginny had gone back to her summer homework and Harry had finished writing a letter explaining the watch with Peter Pettigrew's name on it to Professor Dumbledore. As he put the letter to Dumbledore and the earlier letter to Sirius into the satchel, and watched as they faded out of existence, Harry's thoughts returned to Professor Dumbledore's "madness".

It was a worry, he had to admit, that the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared was considered by most of the Wizarding world to be at least a bit mad. How did he do it? How did an old man with twinkling blue eyes and a fondness for Muggle sweets make any difference to Voldemort? Harry knew that when Dumbledore was angry, he seemed to be an entirely different person, but people had been angry and strong facing Voldemort before, and they were still dead. What was it that made Professor Dumbledore special?

And as soon as he asked that question he knew. Professor Dumbledore continued to enjoy life, despite all the things happening around him, despite Voldemort's return, despite the people who had died. Because the people who had died, died so that others could live. And Voldemort didn't understand that. Voldemort's power was rooted in terror. Through making people fear to even speak his name, he made people fear to live, fear to protect those who made their lives worth living. Professor Dumbledore refused to live a life ruled by terror, and as such, Voldemort could never defeat him.

At that point, Harry made a resolution. He would not succumb to depression. He would remember those who died, but he would not forget to live his life, as his parents would have wanted him to, as Cedric would have wanted to live. He had to have enough fun to make up for all that his parents would have had, all that Cedric would have had. He had to have enough fun to make up for Sirius' twelve years in Azkaban. And he would laugh in Voldemort's face. Because Voldemort could never win. Not when there were people who loved each other; people who were willing to live without fear.


	13. Reunion

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   
The Promise Ring - by The White Lily **Chapter 13: Reunion**

The rest of the summer passed in a blur. Harry's depression seemed to melt away under the influence of his resolution and Ginny's warm laugh. The Dursleys almost completely ignored the two unwelcome residents of their house, except for meal times, where, although Harry cooked more often than not, all were fed quite adequately.

Professor Dumbledore had written back, stating his opinion that the watch looked quite promising as a prospect for freeing Sirius. They would meet to talk about it when Sirius returned from his current mission, several weeks after school started.

Only one more dream about Voldemort had come in the meantime and Harry dutifully wrote his hazy recollections down and sent them off to Dumbledore. The search for Ginny seemed to be taking up all Voldemort's efforts; Harry found the Dark Lord's frustration quite cheering. The remaining nightmares had entirely disappeared when Harry and Ginny gave up all pretences and slept together every night.

Harry still felt bad about the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had trusted him to look after their daughter and he had ended up sleeping in the same bed with her. Although his nightmares had stopped and the situation was entirely innocent, that didn't stop his brain tracking over the situation over and over again, working through the worst possible outcomes. All of them boiled down to the fact that someone could find out and then the Weasleys would think that he had betrayed their trust. Harry resolved that something had to be done, but could not decide on what.

When two weeks had passed with no word from either Ron or Hermione to tell him what had happened between them, Harry sent Hedwig to Ron to find out. A day later, he received two slightly sheepish letters from his friends who, it seemed, were both staying at the Burrow.

The mixed letters seemed to have done the trick and started the two talking again, as well as giving them a nudge in the right direction – their feelings for one another had progressed to open romance. Harry was very curious to see how it would affect their friendship, as well as slightly hurt that they had been so involved with one another that they had completely forgotten about him. However, there was really nothing to be done and, as Ginny said, it was better that they got it out of their system now so that they would be less exclusive of him at Hogwarts.

It was now the day before they left for Hogwarts and Harry and Ginny were anxiously waiting on the front porch to be picked up by the Weasleys for a trip to Diagon Alley. The Dursleys were conspicuously absent from the house and Harry had been warned quite sternly to make sure that everything was satisfactorily locked up. He wasn't entirely sure what the Dursleys intended to do to punish him now that large sums of money depended on his happiness, but he still checked each window and door at least three times before leaving the house.

When the Weasleys finally arrived, they were dressed in quite authentic Muggle clothes, although with Mr. Weasley's obsession this was perhaps to be expected. He had apparently taken the day off work to escort the family to Diagon Alley and was looking quite natty in a pair of black trousers and a white collared shirt and tie.

Mrs. Weasley, dressed in a simple floral housedress, immediately pulled Harry into a hug and, for the first time, Harry did not stiffen or go limp, but returned it firmly and warmly. Mrs. Weasley gave him a sharp look, but did not draw attention to the difference in his behaviour. Once Mrs. Weasley had let him go, Harry found himself ambushed by the twins. They were shaking his hand enthusiastically, both at the same time, numbing it nearly to the elbow and almost blinding him with their equally shocking bright blue and red shirts.

The rest of the Weasleys clustered around Ginny. Harry turned to see Ron and Hermione, standing on the footpath, clutching at each other's hands, and looking rather uncomfortable. Harry slowly made his way towards them and stopped at the gate.

"Hi Harry," said Hermione in a small voice. "I'm really sorry."

Ron was standing beside her, nodding guiltily. "Me too, Harry."

"It's alright," shrugged Harry, trying desperately to look like it was, staring at the ground and hoping that someone would change the subject.

After a long and strained silence, Hermione burst, no longer able to contain herself. "Have you done your homework, Harry? You know it's really important this year, don't you? It's the O.W.Ls this year. I've started studying already –" Ron cut her off with a roll of his eyes and a hand over her mouth.

"Honestly, Hermione, Harry doesn't want to hear about the O.W.Ls now; they're months and months away! Uurgh! What'd you do that for?" Ron released her suddenly and it was obvious, from the disgusted way he was rubbing the palm of his hand on his robes and from Hermione's self-satisfied expression, that she had licked his hand. Harry couldn't help but laugh. It seemed that, couple or not, Ron and Hermione would never change. After a moment Ron and Hermione joined in too, and everything was all right again.

"What's that around your neck, Harry?" Ron asked curiously, when the laughter had died down.

"Oh!" said Harry, "I almost forgot! Ginny helped me find a box of my parents' stuff. These are my dad's glasses; I think the prescription's better for me. I've got Dad's watch too, both of their wedding rings, and a Promise Ring." He pulled out the watch and handed it over for examination.

Hermione gasped, "Oh, Harry, your parents had Promise Rings? That's so romantic! Let me see them."

"There's only one, Hermione," said Harry, looking puzzled, but pulling the leather cord over his head to pass to her. "What do you know about Promise Rings? I'd never heard of them before."

Hermione peered at the ring "Well, I'm not entirely sure how it works, but as far as I know, they're pretty much indestructible. They symbolise a commitment forever – stronger than marriage: you can only ever make one in your life. I'll look it up properly as soon as I can get to the library."

Hermione looked closely at the Promise Ring for a moment, and opened her mouth as if to add something more, but seemed to think better of it, and passed the rings back. "They're really beautiful, Harry. I'm glad you've got something to remind you of them."

Harry passed the rings to Ron, who had given Hermione the watch. Ron looked the rings over and passed them back quickly, obviously somewhat disconcerted at Hermione's reaction to the idea that Harry's mother had owned a Promise Ring.

"I hope my sister wasn't too much of a pest, Harry?" Ron said in a too loud voice, giving him a sympathetic look. "Must have been tough to spend the entire holidays with _her_."

"_Ron!_" Ginny was stalking down the path towards them.

A petite, but particularly vicious sabre-tooth tiger, thought Harry vaguely, before jumping in to head off the impending crisis. "Actually, Ginny's been a great friend this summer."

Ron had the grace to look embarrassed, and Ginny stopped in her tracks with a slow flush suffusing her face, before she shot a shy look of thanks up at Harry.

"Right! Let's be off then," called Mrs. Weasley, interrupting the awkward moment and beginning to hustle the small party off the front lawn and down towards the end of the street. Ron and Hermione were holding hands, and Mrs. Weasley was talking to Ginny, so Harry found himself walking beside Mr. Weasley.

As they walked along in silence, Harry was fighting a tough battle with his conscience over whether to let Mr. Weasley know about the method he and Ginny had discovered to ease their nightmares. He had promised Ginny not to tell her family about her nightmares, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had trusted him. What if someone found out and he hadn't come clean? They would think that he had betrayed their trust. Eventually, he broke the silence. "Uh, Mr. Weasley? How are we getting to Diagon Alley?"

"I've got a Portkey," said Mr. Weasley, waving small item looking like a golden pin, and Harry had to suppress a momentary flash of vertigo. "We have to walk a fair distance from your house because of the protective wards Albus has up."

"Oh, okay," said Harry. Silence reigned for a while before Harry plunged on. "Um, Mr. Weasley? There's something I think I sort of need to tell you."

He looked up to see that he had the kindly middle-aged man's attention, and then looked back down at his toes again, embarrassed.

"Well, the thing is, I've been having really beastly nightmares. And you see –" he stumbled again, "well, the Dursleys, they never really cared. And then, when Ginny was sleeping in my room, I found out that – she made me promise not to tell anyone this, but I think you need to know, could I ask you not to tell Mrs. Weasley?" This last bit all came out very fast and he was flushed with the effort as he looked up at Mr. Weasley again.

Mr. Weasley looked intrigued. "Of course, Harry. I have always told my children that they can come to me with anything and I will respect any confidence they give me. I can certainly do the same for you, Harry."

Harry's stomach felt as though it was filled with a thousand wriggling tadpoles at that statement, but he ignored them and pressed on. "Well, you see, Ginny's been having these awful nightmares as well and it seemed like we were both getting up every half hour to wake the other one and tell them it was all alright. And then, one night, Ginny fell asleep in my bed when she was sitting there talking over my dream." At this point, Harry felt as though he was about to burn up from awkwardness of the situation, but he continued ruthlessly. "She told me a bit later that whenever she had a nightmare when she was younger, Ron would climb into bed with her and hold her for the rest of the night."

Harry stopped and took a deep breath, suddenly and awkwardly aware of the growth spurt he had undergone in that summer. "Mr. Weasley, I would never take advantage of your daughter. She's a great friend and this summer she's become like a sister to me. I promise I would tell you if there was any more to this. But, I just thought you ought to know that both of our nightmares are gone, and that we've been sleeping in the same bed for the past few weeks." There, it was out.

After a long moment of silence, Harry braved a look at Mr. Weasley and found the older man looking seriously down at him. "Molly and I have known that Ginny has had serious nightmares for quite some time. We have not been able to come up with a suitable remedy and we have not discussed the issue with her because we respect her privacy to tell us if she chooses." Mr. Weasley looked back at the road ahead before continuing with a slight tremor in his voice. "When you have children of your own you will understand what it feels like to know that your child lives in terror of going to sleep. I am overwhelmingly grateful to you for helping rid my daughter of her nightmares."

Mr. Weasley's voice firmed and he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder as he continued, "I have confidence, Harry, that you will not abuse the trust we have placed in you."

"Thank you," whispered Harry, almost inaudibly, and nothing more needed to be said.


	14. Diagon Alley

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )  
The Promise Ring - by The White Lily

**Chapter 14: Diagon Alley**

Harry concealed his reluctance to travel by Portkey rather well. When the group finally stopped in a shady green park several streets away from Privet Drive, Mrs. Weasley told them all to hold hands. Harry reached out resolutely to grab the hand nearest to him. Concentrating on not crushing the hand holding his and on keeping his breathing even, Harry closed his eyes and waited. When the familiar tug behind his navel came and the ground was jerked from under him, he fought down the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. When his feet slammed into the ground he quickly opened his eyes and looked around. He was in the Leaky Cauldron. He was safe.

"Fred and George Weasley, where do you think you're going?" Harry turned to see the twins attempting to sneak off into Diagon Alley by themselves.

They looked slightly less sure of themselves under their mother's intense glare. The twin wearing the red shirt, whom Harry thought was probably Fred, started. "Well, Mum, you know, it's like this –"

"We owled Gambol and Japes –"

"– the joke shop in Diagon Alley –"

"– to ask if they –"

"– were interested in –"

"– selling our, um –"

"– products. Um, they told us –"

"–that we should –"

"– come by and talk to the –"

"– manager."

The twins put on angelic faces and looked up at their mother. Mrs. Weasley was not impressed. "You want to try to sell those useless and dangerous things to self-respecting people in Diagon Alley? No! No, no, and NO!"

"Now, Molly," interrupted Mr. Weasley, "We've talked this over and we decided that they can't disappoint this mystery investor of theirs." Mr. Weasley's eyes flickered almost imperceptibly towards Harry before he turned to the twins. "But we can't split up, boys. Now, we can all go to Gambol and Japes when we're finished with everything else. Is that all right?" The twins gave identical sullen nods. "I want you to promise that you won't try to sneak off. Your mother and I will support you if this is what you want to do." Mrs. Weasley looked slightly dubious, but Mr. Weasley pushed on. "But you have to be worthy of our trust." The twins gave slightly less sullen nods and the party moved off into Diagon Alley.

The twins were as good as their word; throughout the entire visit to Diagon Alley they stayed near, helping to carry all the parcels. Harry shared a cart through the long, underground tunnel with them, as they had to go to the new vault they had opened that summer under the name of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. It didn't make Harry feel quite so bad to let the twins see his embarrassment of riches since he was funding their enterprise.

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes seemed to be doing quite well from what they told him; they had made half again on the money Harry had given them in the month since they had received permission from their parents to service Owl Order forms. The twins had been concentrating on food products, as these were the mostly potions added to normal food, and one of the only things they could do without magic. They had heaps of new inventions, including Glowing Gems, which glowed so bright when you sucked them that you could see the light shining through your cheeks; Jumping Juice, which gave the drinker so much excess energy that they couldn't sit still; Midget Mints and their counterpart Giant Jelly, which shrank or grew the person who ate them accordingly. Harry's personal favourites, however, were the Fire Belching Brownies.

"You belch out these huge columns of fire just like a dragon," said Fred eagerly.

George hurried to explain, "Only it's completely harmless, so they won't so much as singe anyone's eyebrows."

"Dad sat us down and talked to us into making sure all our inventions are safe and that the effects are only temporary."

"Dad wasn't very pleased about the Ton-Tongue Toffees –"

"– because he had to perform a counter-spell to reverse it."

"He said that if he hadn't been there your cousin could have been in real trouble"

"And that the people we sell them to might not be responsible with them." Fred's eyes twinkled at this.

"So now all our inventions are timed –"

"– so that they'll wear off after a few minutes –"

"– like the Canary Creams."

"So, we're respectable businessmen now and we have to make sure no one will be hurt by anything we do," Fred concluded, pretending to look rather gloomy at this prospect. Harry wasn't fooled though; he could see the joy sparkling in Fred's eyes as he and his brother lived out their dream.

Soon enough, the cart screeched to a halt back at the surface and all discussions ceased as Harry and the twins rejoined the others in the Gringotts foyer. As the small party emerged from Gringotts, Harry waved cheerily to a passing pair of Hufflepuffs in his year and was stunned by their reaction. Justin Finch-Fletchley flinched visibly when he saw Harry, then leaned forward and murmured something to Susan Bones. She glanced at him fearfully and the pair hurried away with their heads down. Harry looked to the Weasleys, but none of them had noticed the obvious cold shoulder he had received.

Harry stared at the retreating backs of the two Hufflepuffs. What a great start to the year. He had managed to alienate all the Gryffindors in his first year, the entire school in his second, Hermione in his third, and all the other houses and Ron in his fourth year. Unless this was an isolated incident, this year was shaping up to be no different than the others.

Idly kicking at a stone on the cobbled street, Harry followed the Weasleys, falling in step beside Hermione. "What's the _Daily Prophet_ been like over the holidays?" he nervously asked her.

"Quiet," said Hermione, "I don't know whether the Ministry is covering up attacks or whether they're just not happening. But there's been nothing to suggest that You-Know-Who is back. It almost makes me wish I hadn't made Rita Skeeter promise to keep her quill to herself for a year. We need someone like her to come out and say what the Ministry doesn't want to hear."

"And – um – what about … Cedric," the name came out in nothing but a whisper.

Hermione pretended not to notice Harry's discomfort as she replied, "I've been scouring the _Prophet_ every day and there was nothing except a small notice in the Obituaries column. It was a private service for family members only; I guess they didn't want to attract You-Know-Who's attention by having a big memorial service." Hermione's face took on a puzzled look, "There was one odd thing though - they said to send money to The Order of the Phoenix in lieu of flowers. I've heard of asking for people to send money to a charity instead of sending flowers to the family, but I've never heard of The Order of the Phoenix. I'll look it up when I get back to the library."

The two walked along in silence for a few minutes, before Harry was struck by a sudden thought. "Hermione," he asked, "are you a Prefect this year?"

Hermione blushed faintly as she replied, "Yes. Yes, I am. And that means that we can only break rules if it's a real emergency this year." She seemed somewhat worried about it as she turned to Harry and continued urgently, "Please don't cut me out though, Harry! I won't let you break rules on a whim, but when have we ever done that?"

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry assured her, "I wouldn't dream of it. Congratulations! I know you wanted it."

Hermione smiled gratefully at him and indulged in a small hop and a squeal of happiness, "Oh, Harry, it's so wonderful! This means that I could be Head Girl in seventh year!"

Harry smiled back, "I'm sure you will be, Hermione, I can't think of anyone else who'd do a better job."

***

When the group entered Flourish and Blotts, they had quite a bit of trouble finding an assistant to help them. When they finally did and enquired if he could collect their booklists for them, the harassed looking man simply said, "I've got half my staff off sick today, just join the queue. I'm going as fast as I can." Harry gasped when he realised that the people lined up all around the wall of the store were all in the queue. It was going to take them forever just to get their books together and then they had to join another line to pay!

Mrs. Weasley had obviously had a similar thought, since she immediately joined the line to pay and sent everyone off to a different part of the store to collect books for the whole group. Hermione eagerly dashed off to the Charms and Arithmancy sections, while Ron went with particularly bad grace to the Potions section, muttering under his breath about "greasy gits".

Harry moved to the Transfiguration section to pick up two copies of _Transfiguration for the OWLs_ for himself and Hermione, Ron had an old copy from one of his brothers. He also had to get one copy of _Transfiguration for the NEWTs_. Fred and George were going to toss for the new book, the loser getting Percy's old book.

Harry found the books for the OWLs easily enough but a little further down the shelf, in the section for NEWTs, a group of seventh year Ravenclaws were watching him angrily, blocking his path to the bookshelf. Harry stared at them for a few moments then gathered up his Gryffindor courage, muttered, "Excuse me," and squeezed between the two tallest to reach his book. The group made no attempt to touch him or move out of the way, but as Harry retreated, his stack of books clutched to his chest, he could feel their stares burning into his back.

Oh, yes. It was going to be a great year.


	15. Gambol and Japes

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   
The Promise Ring - by The White Lily **Chapter 15: Gambol and Japes**

Hermione and Ginny had both become aware of the strange behaviour of their classmates by the time they had reached the Apothecary, where a second year Hufflepuff squeaked and ran when she saw Harry. The two girls him shot sympathetic looks as the little girl fled down the street. Harry simply shook his head morosely and set to picking out refills for his Potions kit.

No one else in the Apothecary seemed to recognize him until he stepped up to the counter to buy his supplies. The girl in front of him was talking animatedly with the storekeeper, tossing her glossy black hair as she laughed and joked. It was only when she turned slightly and Harry saw the side of her face that he recognized her. It was Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker; the girl who made Harry's stomach do back flips; the girl who had cried at the Leaving Feast. But foremost in Harry's mind, she was Cedric Diggory's girlfriend.

Harry's stomach had never been as far from doing back flips as it was right now – all he could see when he looked at Cho was Cedric's slightly surprised, open mouth and dead, staring eyes. Harry was still staring at her as she happily thanked the storekeeper and turned to exit the store. When she saw Harry, she froze.

Cho was obviously distressed to see him, but Harry had expected that. What he had _not_ expected was the look of heart-rending guilt on her face. He started to move forward, intending to comfort her; to tell her that it was all right to heal; to have fun again. The guilt fell away from her face abruptly, overwhelmed by sudden anger, stopping him in his tracks. The glare she sent him was pure and unadulterated hatred, then tears welled up in her eyes and she brushed past him, disappearing out the door.

The Daily Prophet had not reported Voldemort's return and the Ministry would not accept it. Harry had known that this meant that the wizarding world at large were unlikely to believe the tale that Hogwarts students were bringing home with them. He had realised from the behaviour of the students he had seen in Diagon Alley that they were blaming him, and he couldn't really fault them for that since they had no other target.

But _Cho_… she had never blamed him before. She had sounded like she was really sorry when he had made a fool of himself asking her to the ball. She had never worn a "Support Cedric Diggory – the REAL Hogwarts Champion!" badge (that flashed "POTTER STINKS" when you pressed it), even though Cedric had been her boyfriend.

Now she obviously _did_ blame him. Harry felt a hot surge of hatred towards Voldemort run through him. Wormtail had killed Cedric on the Dark Lord's orders and remained in hiding, leaving Harry to take the blame. Now the girl who had been Cedric's closest friend thought that it was his fault.

Not that she was wrong, of course. It _was_ his fault. Harry shivered. He had hardly known Cedric; he could scarcely imagine how it would feel to lose someone close to him. The thing that Cedric would have missed most was Cho. Would that have been true the other way around? Was Cedric the thing that Cho would have missed most? He imagined losing Ron, seeing him fall to the ground, dead, his surprised mouth slightly open and his sightless eyes staring up at him. Suddenly, Harry felt like he was going to be sick. How could she go on?

Harry paid for his potion ingredients in a daze and rushed to get outside. The oppressive grey of the sky seemed closer than ever, giving the day a claustrophobic feel. Harry's skin tingled; it seemed they were in for a storm.

The Weasleys caught up with him outside the store and he barely listened to Mrs. Weasley telling the twins that only Madam Malkin's was left before they got to Gambol and Japes. A shudder ran through him as his mind continued to reel from Cho's reaction to him. Actually, he was surprised at how little it affected him. For the first time, his stomach had behaved itself when he had met her eyes and he hadn't felt the need to invent new adjectives to describe her. Perhaps it was her anger, or perhaps his stomach had simply decided to leave him alone about her because of Cedric. Whatever the reason, he was glad.

Ginny touched his hand worriedly and Harry met her eyes. The reassuring smile he directed at her was only intended to make her feel better, but Harry was surprised to find that by the time he looked away, his own spirits had lifted as well. He was shocked to realise, when he looked up again, that they were finished in Madam Malkin's and were moving on into Gambol and Japes.

Fred and George exchanged a nervous look and then walked up to the counter to ask for the manager. Harry had just turned at the sound of his name being called when there was a thunderous crash from the street outside. The dancing, glowing skeleton Ron had been showing him, however good it would have been to frighten Neville with, was instantly forgotten.

Suddenly, the shoppers thronging the streets were screaming and running or Disapparating with faint pops and within a minute, the street was entirely clear. The noise in the shop had swelled to a dull roar as twenty people crushed through the shop doors into the already crowded Gambol and Japes. Everyone in the shop was either clamouring for explanations or shouting out their knowledge of current events.

"Death Eaters," an elderly wizard sobbed. "It's like the years of You-Know-Who all over again."

"What's going on?" called a dumpy wizard. "Is it thunder?"

"Madame Malkin's," a grey-haired witch was babbling hysterically. "It's gone! Entirely collapsed!"

"Brian? Are you here, Brian?" cried a middle-aged witch in soot-smudged violet robes, as she pushed her way through the crowd. "BRIAN!"

The room was spinning and the crowd seemed to press in on Harry. There was so much noise that he could no longer separate individual voices and, although he was desperately looking around for anyone he knew, he couldn't see over the heads of the crowd.

A hand grabbed him from behind and he whirled around to see Mr. Weasley's haggard looking face. "Come on, Harry, this way. We can't let them find us." Harry followed through to the rear of the shop, barely avoiding being crushed as he was dragged through the frenzied mob. Off to one side, he saw Hermione and grabbed her hand before struggling on.

The door they squeezed through at the back of the shop seemed to lead into a supply cupboard. The rest of the Weasleys were huddled together at the back of the cupboard, their intensely white faces betraying their fear.

The room suddenly seemed to dissolve in pain. Harry dropped to the ground clutching his scar as a loud bang sounded out in the main shop and the screaming rose in a crescendo.

Harry could only make out disconnected phrases from the other occupants of the cupboard; the Weasleys hissing suggestions, orders, questions, and reassurances all at once in hushed but forceful voices.

"Is it your scar hurting, Harry? That's bad!"

"Fred, George, what are you _doing_?"

"It's bright red, Ron, look at how much pain he's in."

"_Portusobfirmo Recollidestino_"

"Don't worry, Mum."

"A healing spell might help. I saw a book that had – just give me a moment."

"This'll do it, Gambol and Japes' finest Filibuster Fireworks."

The pain worsened and he opened his mouth to scream, but found it blocked by someone's hand.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but you have to be quiet or they'll find us."

"Put it over there and then we can –"

"It was called the Salvificus Charm and only trained Mediwitches can use it"

"_Introverto_"

"_Hortusortus Little Whinging Determino_"

"Pour over the Levitating Liquid."

"The incantation was _Salveo_, but that's all I know"

"It must be You-Know-Who. He's got to be pretty close!"

"_Salveo_"

The room swam into focus as the pain in his forehead receded to a dull ache. Ginny's pale face was in front of him and her wand was pointed directly at his forehead. The pain swelled again and he screwed up his face. "_Salveo_," repeated Ginny and the pain ebbed once more. "_Salveo_," she said. "_Salveo_. _Salveo_. He's all right now, Ron. _Salveo_."

The hand covering his mouth let go and he struggled into a sitting position, watching Ginny repeat her soft chant. "Thank you," he whispered and she nodded without ceasing her mantra. Mr. Weasley was sitting at the back of the cupboard pointing his wand at a book he had retrieved from their shopping, softly chanting a long and complicated spell. Hermione was staring in shock at Ginny as though she was from another planet. At the door, Fred and George were conversing rapidly in half sentences and sifting through a couple of boxes of tricks. Harry ignored them all and focussed on the sounds coming from outside. He wished he hadn't when he heard the high, cold voice of Voldemort shrieking, "Find Harry Potter and the Weasley girl. They are in this store. Find them!"

"Get back!" hissed Fred, hustling everyone back from the door as his twin brother lit a fuse hanging from the door handle before running to join the others at the far end of the cupboard. Just as Harry scrambled to his feet to join the others, there was an odd sounding 'twang', a wet sort of 'pop', and then a hissing sigh from behind him. A brilliant white light illuminated the faces in front of him for a moment and then vanished.

"Nearly finished," Mr. Weasley reassured Mrs. Weasley, pausing his seemingly endless litany of magic to catch his breath.

"Perfect, brother mine!" cried Fred in a soft but animated tone.

A pounding sound on the door caused Harry to inadvertently turn his head, breaking Ginny's line of sight on his scar. The pain swelled instantly and he quickly snapped his head back, unable to do anything except listen as the voice recognizable as Lucius Malfoy called out from the other side. "He's in here, my Lord. The girl, too. _Alohomora_."

Mrs. Weasley moved forward to stand in front of her family protectively, shielding them with her body, her wand menacingly pointed at the door. But the door remained closed.

Fred and George gave each other a high five and turned to watch the door again.

"_Reducto_," said Mr. Malfoy, still with no effect. "_Dilabor. Evanesco. Irrumpo. Emoveo. Aboleo. Pessumdare_." Lucius Malfoy sounded increasingly desperate as none of his spells, curses, hexes or jinxes budged the door.

"_Inconcussus Compleo Porticus_. Finished!" burst out Mr. Weasley. "Everybody hold hands now and grab everything we bought today. Are we ready?" As soon as everyone had given his or her assent, he reached forward and touched the innocent looking book he had been casting over and Harry felt the familiar jerk behind his navel as the world dissolved.


	16. The Pledge

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   


**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 16: The Pledge**

They had arrived back in Little Whinging just as the storm broke and, despite Mr. Weasley's insistence that they run as fast as possible back to the Dursleys' where it was safe, they were entirely soaked when they reached the front door. As soon as his family was safe, Mr. Weasley kissed his wife and sprinted back through the torrential rain towards the place they had arrived. Mrs. Weasley sighed and stood on the porch watching him go back into danger.

Harry hurriedly opened the door and invited everyone into the lounge where Mrs. Weasley performed drying charms all round. No longer soaking wet, they sat down and listened to the thunder and watched the rain run down the windows while they tensely awaited Mr. Weasley's return. The Dursleys were still out on the trip into London that they had planned the moment they heard that the Weasleys were coming to pick Harry up.

Mrs. Weasley eventually broke the silence. "I want you to know that I'm very proud of all of you. Fred, George, my genius boys, I'm sure I'll never understand what you did to that door, but it saved our lives. And Ron, the quick-thinker, you kept Harry quiet when he was in so much pain: if you hadn't they would have found us before we were ready. And Ginny – my little girl – you performed a charm normally only performed by fully trained Mediwitches, without being taught and in a crisis." Mrs. Weasley had tears running down her cheeks and her voice was unsteady as her children put their arms around her to give and receive comfort after the horrific experience of being hunted by Voldemort. "I'm so proud of you all."

Harry drew his legs up against his chest and hugged them to him. It was all his fault. The Weasleys could have died; would have died, if they hadn't been so lucky. He buried his eyes in his knees as the prickling tears threatened to overflow. He tried to hold them in, but the sobs fought their way out and he could feel his entire body shaking with the effort to keep each one silent.

"I've got to make it all stop. I'm going to give myself up." He didn't even realise he had spoken aloud until he heard a gasp from beside him. Hermione, it seemed, had noticed his distress and come over to comfort him.

"You can't do that, Harry!" she said, her horror tangible.

Harry looked up at Hermione bitterly. "Why, because I'm the Boy Who Lived?"

"No, Harry," she replied, her face grave. "Because you're our friend. Because we want you to be there, to be alive, to laugh with us, to go to Potions with us. Because even if we risk our lives to know you, we're willing to do that. And even if you do give yourself up, will that help? He'll be after me next or Colin Creevey or Justin Finch Fletchley. He'll be after the next person and there'll be nothing you can do about it."

Harry felt a touch at his ankle and looked down to see Ginny kneeling in front of his chair. "It's not your fault, Harry. It's Voldemort's fault. Those people who wouldn't look you in the eye today…" she paused, groping for the right words. "You know they're idiots, don't you? I mean, they're not idiots, but they've got it wrong. It's not your fault. And you can't make it better by giving up, because even if you did we would still risk our lives to fight against Voldemort."

Ron was looking uncharacteristically sober as Harry met his eyes. "Remember what I said in the Shrieking Shack, when we thought Sirius was going to kill us? I told him that he'd have to kill us first. I meant that, Harry. I still do."

The twins shook their heads in unison when he looked at them. "Sorry, mate, we won't let you. You're stuck with us. Besides, who'd be our Seeker if you weren't around?"

Then he looked at Mrs. Weasley, whose face had gone slightly pasty at her children's declarations. But her voice was strong and she looked directly into his eyes as she said, "Harry, even if I wasn't willing to risk my life because I know you are a good person, I would be willing to risk my life because you are a child and every one of my instincts screams out to protect you. And even if that were not the case, I would be willing to risk my life _and the lives of my children_, because you give those who fight against Voldemort hope. You are living proof that we can win in the fight against him. No one expects you to defeat Voldemort. But by the very fact that you are alive, you remind us all that Voldemort's power is not absolute; that he _can't _always get what he wants. That he _can_ be defeated."

Harry looked back into his lap, unable to meet anyone's eyes.

"Swear to us that you won't give up, Harry." It was Ginny.

Harry shook his head stubbornly. "It's better than getting a whole lot more people killed."

"Swear it," said Hermione, firmly.

"Swear it," said Ron, closely followed by the voices of the twins and Mrs. Weasley, repeating the two words in unison. "Swear it." The two words hung in the air like a curse, dark and heavy, somehow seeming present even after their sound had faded.

"Doesn't your parents' sacrifice mean anything to you, Harry?" It was Ginny again, her brown eyes compelling him to meet her gaze. He looked, unable to break away from her intent stare. "They _died_ so that you could live. You told me that Voldemort offered your mother the chance to move aside. She didn't have to die, but she did because she wanted you to live. Are you going to make her sacrifice worth nothing by just killing yourself?" Harry was silent, but she continued, "Hold onto her ring, Harry and tell me how she felt about you. Tell me what she would think if you did this." Reluctantly, Harry reached inside his shirt and held the ring. The feeling of love suffused him again and the sharp pang of loss hit him anew. "We would risk our lives even if you were gone," she continued gently. "It's not your fault and you can't do anything about it. Now I want you to swear to us that you won't give up."

Harry stared at her, powerless to tear his eyes from her face. "I swear it," he whispered eventually and Ginny's eyes released him. Harry took one look around the room at the faces of the people who would die for him and fled.

Once in his room, he hurled himself face-down on his bed, curled his arms about his head and wept. He wept for his mother, who had died for him. For Cedric, who had died just because he was there. But most of all, he wept for Hermione and all the Weasleys, who willingly laid down their lives to protect him. He knew what it felt like to have a family now. It hurt.

***

Perhaps half an hour later, although he was never really sure, Harry felt a feather-light touch on his shoulder and a dip in the mattress as someone sat down beside him. "I'm sorry we had to do that," came the voice of Ginny, "but you had us all really worried down there."

No longer embarrassed to show his tears to Ginny, (she had seen enough of them over the past few weeks) Harry rolled over to face her. "You could have died today, Ginny. You could have all died, just because Voldemort wants to get _me_. And what use was I? So incapacitated by this stupid scar, that I couldn't do anything useful. I just would have lain on the floor, screaming, as Voldemort killed you all."

Ginny reached out and held his hand. "And how would that be your fault, Harry?" she asked softly. "Who put the world on your shoulders?"

Harry closed his eyes against the new flood of tears threatening to break loose. Two tears escaped regardless, one pooling around the nose pad of his glasses, the other heading straight for his ear. He could feel it there, settled in the hollow of his ear, warm and damp against his skin.

"I just…" Harry broke off. The tear in his ear was beginning to cool and it tickled slightly. Harry pulled his hand from Ginny's to rub at his ear angrily before looking up at her seriously and continuing.

"I put the world on my own shoulders when I stopped Sirius and Professor Lupin from killing Wormtail. Nothing else was really my fault, you're right. I couldn't have known that the Cup was a Portkey. I couldn't have done anything to save Cedric or to stop Wormtail from taking my blood in that graveyard. It was all I could do to get away after that: I couldn't have harmed Voldemort, not with all those Death Eaters watching.

"But saving Wormtail's life – that was _me_. I saw him and stepped between him and two adults who had known him since childhood and knew that the best way to deal with him was to kill him. If I hadn't stepped in, he'd be dead, Sirius would be free, Voldemort would still be gone."

Harry drew a deep, rattling breath. "You talk about making my mother's sacrifice worthless, but don't you see I already have? In the moment I stepped in front of Peter Pettigrew, I ensured that Voldemort would come back. That's why it's my fault. And I'm not sure if I could cope with it if another person died in my place, because of my mistake. You know how I feel about Cedric and I hardly knew him. How much worse would it be if something happened to someone who willingly put themselves at risk for me?"

Ginny seemed to understand, because she made no attempt to rationalise his decision to protect Wormtail. She just held him as he cried, whispering softly, "And what would it be like for _us_ if _you_ died when we could have saved you?"

***

Mr. Weasley arrived back at number four, Privet Drive late that afternoon, looking as though he had been dragged through a series of thorn bushes backwards. "Idiotic Fudge," he spat, "Rogue Death Eaters _indeed_. Lucius Malfoy tells him that Voldemort hasn't returned and, of course, Fudge believes him and not me. And Malfoy smirked at me, the whole way through the meeting. He's got Fudge in his pocket and even though he tried every curse he knew to get through that door and kill my family today, he knows that there's not a thing I can do about it."

He leaned back in one of the armchairs and closed his eyes. "I'd resign if I weren't more use to Albus on the inside. No one was killed today, but it was a near thing – there are several people in St. Mungo's with injuries from the crush of the collapsing buildings and the panicking crowds. Madame Malkin's is completely destroyed and Gambol and Japes isn't far off." Mr. Weasley was silent then, his state of complete exhaustion forcing his body to take a break.

After a few moments, Mrs. Weasley seemed to realise that her husband was in serious danger of going to sleep where he sat. She shook his shoulder, "Arthur, let's go home. You'll sleep much better in your own bed and we need to be ready to go to Hogwarts tomorrow. Is there anything you need to tell Ginny or Harry before we leave?"

Mr. Weasley blinked wearily, then reached into his pocket and drew out a pair of gold lapel pins with a red Gryffindor Lion on them. "After the fiasco at Diagon Alley today, Albus decided that all students will wear one of these, but we're giving you yours early. It's a Portkey directly to Albus' study, so if any student is in danger they can get away easily. You activate it by twisting the head of the lion. We want you to use these to get to school tomorrow." He raised a hand, forestalling their queries. "No, you will not be catching the Hogwarts Express tomorrow, it's too dangerous, not only for you but for the other students. Albus is expecting you in his office at five fifteen tomorrow evening."

Mr. Weasley turned to his daughter. "Ginny, since we won't see you on the platform tomorrow, we need to say our goodbyes now. I want you to know much I love you and how very proud of you I am. That was some pretty advanced magic you used today." Then he swept her up in his arms. "Be careful, my baby girl."

Ginny moved over to her mother, who tearfully tried to extract all sorts of promises to be safe out of her. Harry was surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Mr. Weasley looking down at him. "Remember what we talked about Harry and – and thank you."

Harry and Ginny stood on the porch waving to everyone until they were well out of sight before returning to the house for their last night in, as Harry's watch put it, prison.


	17. Hogwarts

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   


**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 17: Hogwarts**

As soon as the scene materialised into the dark forest that Voldemort used for his meetings, Harry could see that the meeting was going to be terrible. The rain was pouring down on the Death Eaters in sheets, but they didn't seem to flinch under the stinging drops. Voldemort himself was in a towering rage, shrieking and yelling at all his Death Eaters indiscriminately.

"Our window of opportunity is GONE! You could not capture TWO CHILDREN, even though I gave you very specific information about their whereabouts from my brilliant new spy." There was a pause, where the circle shuffled almost imperceptibly, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Finally, the Dark Lord crooked one slim, long finger at a dark cloaked figure in the circle. "Snape," he called, in a hard, malicious voice, "I thought that when you came crawling back to me, I had made it clear that more failure on your behalf would not be tolerated. Obviously you need another lesson in obeying your master." Then he turned to another of the shadowy figures, "Malfoy. You too will be punished for your failure to locate the girl."

The rest of the circle visibly relaxed, but the two men stepped forward to middle of the circle stiffly, barely concealing their panic in the face of punishment or death. "_Imperio_," cried Voldemort and Harry's scar blistered with pain. He felt himself rising towards consciousness, but suddenly the pain vanished. It returned again as Voldemort pointed his wand at the other man, "_Imperio_," but this too was quickly gone.

The two Death Eaters jerkily turned to one another, bowed, and said in unison, "_Crucio_."

More than anything, Harry's scar just felt itchy now, although he felt a little ill as he watched the two Death Eaters screaming with pain, but still keeping their wands trained on each other. Voldemort's high, cold laugh sounded in the background as he controlled his two minions like puppets on strings. The rest of the circle shifted uncomfortably, although they obviously feared their master's wrath too much to look away.

"Enough!" shouted Voldemort, after what felt like hours, and the two Death Eaters collapsed into limp heaps on the ground, twitching occasionally.

Voldemort ignored them as he continued. "If we cannot achieve our goal with one hostage, we must achieve it with many. Every Mudblood that Harry Potter has ever met will die, along with their families! You will find me the addresses; find me those Mudbloods who mean the most to him and we will purge them from the face of the earth. The Ministry will never acknowledge our presence if we are careful. If Harry Potter does not respond to the death of one family, we will kill another, then another, then another!" Voldemort finished his speech at a bellow, the approving shouts of his Death Eaters echoing loud and clear. This was obviously one assignment they would _all_ enjoy.

***

Harry sat up in bed, the sick feeling in his stomach multiplying a hundred-fold. "Oh, _no_!" he groaned. "He's finally made the connection that it'll hurt me whoever he kills." At Ginny's puzzled look, he elaborated, "He's going after all the Muggle-borns and their families, starting with the ones closest to me."

"Hermione!" gasped Ginny and Harry nodded grimly. He took the writing utensils that Ginny was holding out for him hurriedly and scribbled a note to Professor Dumbledore explaining all that he remembered of his dream. It wasn't much, really. He remembered that Voldemort had been very proud of a new spy, and had forced a duel between two Death Eaters using the Imperius Curse. He also remembered the general gist of Voldemort's final speech. How could the Ministry be so blind? From the sounds of it, the streets would have to be running with blood before they admitted that Voldemort had returned.

Then a thought struck Harry and he voiced it out loud. "How on earth did I manage to sleep through the Imperius Curse and the Cruciatus Curse?"

"Uh, that was me," said Ginny softly. "I woke up like usual and realised you were having one of your dreams, so I got out some stuff for you to write with when you woke up and watched you carefully. But when your scar went all red and you were about to wake up, I thought it might help if I cast that healing spell I used today; it might let you stay asleep longer and learn more. Did I do the right thing?"

Harry gaped at her in astonishment. "It did help," he replied eventually, "because Voldemort didn't get to what they were actually going to do until after the curses. I wouldn't have known about… uh, about what he was planning." Ginny nodded gloomily but didn't say anything more, so Harry went back to his letter to Dumbledore. After attaching a short note about how Ginny had helped him to continue watching the meeting, Harry jumped out of bed to it into the satchel by the door. The relatively warm summer air felt quite chilly even through his oversized pyjamas. Harry hurried back to bed, to the safety and warmth of Ginny's arms. It was a long time before either of them got back to sleep that night.

***

Harry and Ginny spent most of the day on September the first returning Dudley's toys to their original sizes and packing. At five o'clock, when Harry checked Professor Dumbledore's satchel before packing it, he found a sizeable sack of Muggle money along with an envelope addressed to the Dursleys. At first, Harry went to take them downstairs to give to the Dursleys before they left, but was struck by a thought as he started out the door.

Professor Dumbledore had _seemed _fairly calm after his initial rage at the Dursleys, but Harry suspected that he had actually been furious. As possibly the most respected wizard in the world, Dumbledore would have to be very good at suppressing his emotions in a moment were expressing them would do more harm than good. After all, Dumbledore _had_ needed the Dursleys' help. He had applied the ancient formula of carrot and stick to the Dursleys with skill – money for the carrot and the threat of murdering godfathers for the stick. But now that the Dursleys' help was not required for another year…

Harry decided that he didn't want to know what was in that letter and that he wanted to be long out of the house before it was opened. Picking up the writing materials left by the side of his bed, Harry wrote a short note.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia,

Ginny and I have gone to Hogwarts. Thank you for having both of us for these holidays. Your hospitality has been greatly appreciated.

Harry

Harry arranged the sheet of parchment, the envelope and the sack of money on his newly made bed. "Greatly appreciated?" snorted Ginny as she looked over his shoulder to read the note. "We've stayed in this room almost the entire time to avoid them! And you've obviously forgotten the condition we found you in when we came here!"

"No," said Harry slowly, "it's just that I'm going to have to come back here at the end of the year. And they _have_ been quite nice ever since you arrived."

Harry ignored the sceptical look Ginny tossed him, pulling his father's pocket watch out and flipping it open. "It's five fourteen," he said nervously. Stuffing the last few items into his trunk and shutting the lid, Harry took hold of his trunk and pulled out his Gryffindor pin.

Both of us. The rogue thought flashed through his mind and Harry shook his head to try to clear it. _Let's just take it together._ "Let's go," said Harry. He quickly twisted the head of the lion before he could lose his nerve to use the Portkey. The familiar jerk caught him behind his navel and he was falling forwards in a great swirl of wind. Then his feet slammed into the ground and he tumbled facedown into the familiar carpet of Professor Dumbledore's office. Harry quickly scrambled to his feet, gasping for breath.

"Ah," cried Professor Dumbledore genially, "right on time!" With a wave of his wand, both of their trunks disappeared, presumably to their dormitories. Harry turned and gave Ginny a hand up from the floor. She quite comfortably accepted his hand for a pull up, but then flushed a brilliant shade of magenta when she realised that Dumbledore was watching them. "No need to be embarrassed Ginny, I would have hoped that you and Harry could have become a little more comfortable in one another's presence during your stay.

"First of all, Harry, all the parents of Muggle-borns in your year have been contacted. They will be put under the Fidelius Charm to protect them. Each of the teachers is a Secret Keeper for one family, as these Muggles do not know generally know any adult wizards who could act in that capacity. We do not have enough teachers to act in this capacity for all the Muggle-borns at Hogwarts, but those in your year are under the most direct threat. Did you pass on my offerings to your aunt and uncle?"

"Yes, sir, I did," said Harry. "I thought it would be best to get out of the house before they opened the letter though."

Dumbledore looked slightly startled, but replied serenely, "Very prudent, Harry, very prudent indeed. You've been listening to your inner Slytherin, if I may say so!"

"Uh, I guess so," replied Harry, shooting a doubtful look at Ginny.

Dumbledore's expression hardened. "I will not tolerate the abuse of any one of my students, Harry," he continued grimly. "I have a responsibility to ensure that you are safe. I apologise for leaving you in that environment now that I know the particulars. Unfortunately, most of Hogwarts' protective wards are taken down for replacement over the school holidays; the only place that was safe for you was with your family. I hope that the company and the ability to use magic made you feel somewhat safer there?"

"Yes, sir, it did," said Harry gratefully.

There was a sharp tap on the door and Professor McGonagall entered. "Albus? You wanted me to remind you when the train was half an hour away?"

"Of course, thank you, Minerva." Dumbledore turned to Harry and Ginny, "Please excuse me, I must go and discuss the feast with the house elves. You may wait for your classmates in the Great Hall if you wish."

Professor McGonagall cut in quickly, "I'd like to have a word with Potter, if I may use your office, Albus?"

"Of course, Minerva. Ginny?" Dumbledore gestured for Ginny to precede him out the door. "I shall see you at the feast, Minerva, Harry." With a flourish of robes, Professor Dumbledore had moved out the door of his office and down the moving staircase to the corridor below.

Harry stared at Professor McGonagall as she made herself comfortable in one of the large armchairs in Dumbledore's office, wondering desperately what he could be in trouble for. A nasty image cropped up in his mind of Draco Malfoy and his huge bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle, lying in the corridor on the Hogwarts Express, covered in hex marks from the combined spells of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George. He obviously wasn't going to be expelled – surely they wouldn't have sent him his letter if he wasn't to be going to school this year – but what _was_ the penalty for attacking another student? Harry groaned inwardly. He was going to be in detention all year.

"Potter," Professor McGonagall started sternly, "I'm sure I don't want to know what you think you're here for, given the expression on your face. I actually wanted to ask if you have given any thought to the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year?"

Harry quickly recovered and said, "Uh, no, Professor, I haven't."

"We need to elect a new captain," she continued, "and choose a replacement Keeper. We should also put some thought into finding reserve Chasers and Beaters so that the team will be ready for next year. But first of all, if you will cast your vote, we can finalise the position of captain."

At Harry's startled look, she clarified. "I paid all the other members of the team a visit last night, but I considered that given your family's rather… _unique_ view on magic and that you would be coming in early today, I would simply speak to you now. So what do you think?"

Harry had to think about it. Fred or George would each probably be a good captain, although it was a little hard to separate one from the other. Then he thought of the pranks that they were likely to pull on the other team leading up to a match and changed his mind. Oliver Wood had always ruled the twins with an iron fist, vetoing all pranks with the threat of kicking them off the team, but if one of them was the captain… No. In theory, one of the twins would make a good captain, but Gryffindor couldn't afford to lose points to the twins' pre-match nerves.

Angelina Johnson was the undisputed leader of the Chasers, orchestrating their moves and forming their drills with a precision almost akin to Oliver's. But Harry had once overheard a conversation between Oliver and Angelina where it became entirely obvious that she had no appreciation for the moves required by the Beaters, the Keeper or the Seeker. A captain needed to be able to understand and train the team as a whole, not just one position.

Katie Bell was an excellent Chaser, there was no doubt about that, but Harry dismissed her almost immediately. She was extremely shy and wasn't really assertive enough to organise a team into doing what she wanted.

So that left Alicia Spinnet. Alicia would be a good captain, she wasn't as fanatical as Oliver had been but she had a good overall view of the game and would make sure that everyone behaved in practices.

"Alicia Spinnet," he replied firmly. "I think she should be the captain."

"Really?" asked Professor McGonagall, seeming slightly surprised. "Well, you're the only one!"

"What?" asked Harry incredulously. "Who do the others want? I would have said Angelina, only she doesn't really know much about any position but Chaser. Katie's a bit too timid, I would have thought, and the twins – well that'd just be asking for disaster."

"All very good points, Potter. However, the votes of your teammates were unanimous. _You_ are to be the Gryffindor captain this year."

Harry gaped at her. "Me?" Harry gasped, completely flabbergasted. "Are you serious?" She nodded. "But I'm only in fifth year!" he spluttered.

"That is one of the major points in your favour, Potter. If we chose one of the seventh years as our captain, we would need to select a new captain next year, along with an entirely new set of Chasers and Beaters. There is no way that the team would be ready for the first match of the season with that much upheaval. I'm not sure that the team would be ready in any case, which is why I am also asking you to select three reserve Chasers and two reserve Beaters.

"I have booked the pitch for try-outs this Saturday at eight thirty in the morning. I will announce the details to Gryffindor House this evening. You should probably give some thought to how you will test everyone."

Professor McGonagall's expression softened somewhat as she looked down at Harry, "I'm sure that it won't be difficult for you. You have the respect of your teammates and I am certain that they will support you." Then she stood and ushered him out, following him down the stairs and hurrying off to greet the first-years, leaving Harry standing in the middle of the corridor, still astounded that he was now captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.


	18. The Feast

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   


**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 18: The Feast**

Ginny seemed entirely unsurprised that Harry had been named Quidditch captain; she had simply assumed that he would be. Harry was still not convinced. He was definitely not up to planning the complex plays Oliver Wood had always designed, but then again – they had always seemed all right in the dressing room, but once on the field everyone had simply ignored the plan and done what they did best. Maybe he would be all right after all.

Harry and Ginny sat alone at the Gryffindor table, waiting for the rest of the students to arrive. The staff trickled in slowly to take their seats, as the thick clouds on the ceiling of the Great Hall turned from grey twilight into velvet black.

Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, arrived first and sat idly tapping her fingers until Professor Sprout arrived to sit next to her, engaging her in conversation. Tiny Professor Flitwick arrived next and sat with the two professors already at the table, joining in their conversation with an enthusiasm that belied his tiny size.

Harry was so busy trying to catch a snippet of the rather lively conversation at the staff table that he would have missed the arrival of the next teacher if Ginny hadn't elbowed him in the ribs. A very old and frail witch was making her way towards the staff table at a snail's pace. When she finally reached the chair she was aiming for – about halfway along, right next to Professor Dumbledore's usual seat – she tapped it once with her wand, transfiguring it into a much more comfortable armchair, then sank down into it with a grateful sigh. It was only when her face turned towards Harry that he recognised her.

"Mrs. Figg!" he exclaimed softly to Ginny. "She was my baby-sitter whenever the Dursleys wanted to do something without me. I had no idea she was a witch." Harry shook his head softly at the confirmation of the suspicion he had harboured ever since the night when Dumbledore had told Sirius to go and find 'the old crowd' which had included _Arabella Figg_. "I'm not sure how good a teacher she'll be though – I expect she's teaching Defence against the Dark Arts – she was always really obsessed with her cats when I saw her."

"What do you expect?" replied Ginny quietly, looking around at the students beginning to arrive. "She couldn't exactly talk to you about magic, could she? Imagine if you'd gone back to the Dursleys and told them she was a witch! She was probably there to watch over you, which means she could be more powerful than you can imagine."

Harry could see her point and nodded in agreement before turning to observe the students now streaming into the Great Hall. It seemed the events at Diagon Alley had not changed the opinions of most of the school concerning Voldemort's return and Harry's involvement in the events surrounding Cedric's death. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws entering the hall all seemed to be either angry with Harry or terrified of him. Both Slytherin and Gryffindor seemed fairly neutral in the whole affair, if only because the glares and disdainful looks he was directed from the Slytherin table were a perfectly normal and unchanging part of life for Harry Potter.

Finally, Ron and Hermione arrived and hurried over to sit across the table from Harry and Ginny. "Hi, Harry," Hermione said rather breathlessly. "How was your trip?"

Harry just grinned, "Well, you know, since it was all over in an instant, it didn't really have a chance to be bad! What about yours? Did Malfoy bother you at all?"

"No, actually," replied Ron. "He came along, but seemed to think it wasn't much fun if you weren't there, so he tossed us a couple of fairly weak insults and left. Other than that it was fairly peaceful."

When Hermione snorted into her sleeve in an attempt to smother her laughter and Ron's ears went a violent shade of pink, Harry gathered that there had been something not so peaceful about the journey. He decided to let it go at that. Ron had a tendency to get very angry when embarrassed and the last thing Harry wanted to do was risk Ron's friendship over a stupid joke, especially with most of the school avoiding him. Ginny, however, was not so subtle.

"Come on, spill," she demanded. "What on earth could have embarrassed Ron so much?"

"Ah," said one of the twins as he took a seat next to Ginny, "now that's quite a story."

"And it's certainly worth the telling," added the other, sitting next to Harry. "Now, you all know that you should never accept any food product from us don't you?" Ginny nodded emphatically, motioning her brother to continue.

Harry looked over at Ron, whose face looked like a rosy thundercloud. "Oh look, it's the first years," he said quite deliberately, stopping the retelling of the joke. When Ron had looked away from him, Harry shot a suppressing look to the twin sitting next to him and whispered, "Later."

Professor McGonagall was leading the first years to the front of the room. They trailed behind her like a frightened string of ducklings and they all looked puzzled as McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on the usual three-legged stool and stepped back. All the first years gasped as a rip at the brim of the hat opened and it began to sing:

"_What's that?" you say. "A hat?" you say,_

Oh yes, I've heard them all.

But slip me right onto your head,

And listen to my call.

For I am not a simple hat,

Pay heed unto my song,

And I will read your mind's true form,

To say where you belong!

The shrewd will go to Slytherin,

Ambitious to the bone.

The brave belong in Gryffindor,

Their hearts to all are shown.

The loyal are the Hufflepuffs,

They set to work with zest!

The clever go to Ravenclaw,

All knowledge is their quest.

So do not shiver, do not shake

With fear of what's to come,

'Cause I can see inside your head;

Just put me on and… Done!

Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a roll of parchment and began calling the first years forward to be sorted. Hermione frantically noted down all the new students and their houses with a quill and parchment she had produced out of one of her pockets, completely ignoring Ron's incredulous remarks.

When the sorting had concluded, food blossomed on the table in front of them and Harry found that he was suddenly starving. Even though for the second half of the summer both he and Ginny had managed to be fed adequately, it had certainly been nothing to compare with the sumptuous feast before him. Harry helped himself to everything in front of him, managing to make almost as much of a dent in the food in front of them as Ron did. Ron was simply consuming everything in sight, much to Hermione's dismay.

"M'a gwow'ing boy, H'mi'ne!" he grinned at her through a mouthful of chicken. Hermione turned away in disgust, but Harry grinned back. It was good to be home.

When the last remnants of the desserts had vanished, Dumbledore stood and clapped his hands for silence. "Well, Hogwarts students, it is the start of another school year! I would like you all to welcome our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher – Professor Figg!"

Professor Figg did not rise to her feet at the smattering of applause, but merely raised her wrinkled hand in a queenly wave to the assembled students.

"And now on to serious matters. I know many of you are not entirely convinced of the truth of what I told you at the end of last year. Lord Voldemort," the entire school winced, "has indeed returned. The time has come, whether you may think this speech the ramblings of a foolish old man or not, to choose your destiny. Think about to whom you will give your allegiance. Neutrality is not an option; Voldemort has always exploited and destroyed those who thought themselves neutral. Remember Cedric Diggory."

Harry looked over to the Ravenclaw table at Cho Chang, who was looking very white and very small among her classmates. The brown-haired girl sitting next to her reached over to comfortingly touch her, but Cho angrily jerked away. The girl's face showed her obvious hurt at Cho's reaction, but she murmured something comforting to Cho before turning her eyes to stare at her empty plate.

Dumbledore was continuing, "Once you have returned to your common rooms, you will be presented with a small pin. It is a Portkey directly to my study, so that you may return to safety immediately should you ever find yourself in a sticky situation. If your pin is lost or stolen, notify your Head of House immediately for a replacement. All students will be required to wear their pin at all times, in plain sight, on the upper left hand side of their robes. Any infringement will immediately remove every single point their house has collected over the year."

All the students gasped in unison. It was unheard of for a crime to remove that many points! Pavarti Patil gave Neville Longbottom, a very forgetful boy in Harry's dormitory, an elbow in the ribs. "You'd better remember to wear it, Neville, or not even Harry will be able to get us back our points!" A nervous titter of laughter ran along the Gryffindor table at that.

In his first two years, Harry had managed to earn an enormous number of points for Gryffindor at the end of the year. Both years, however, Harry felt that he had earned the points for making the best of a terrible and unavoidable situation and therefore his actions had not been particularly laudable. In his third year, Harry's rescue of his infamous (but innocent) godfather had not become public knowledge, thus earning them no house points. Gryffindor had won the cup anyway, mainly thanks to their spectacular victory in the Quidditch Cup. Last year the cup had not been awarded out of respect for Cedric.

"Now your lessons will start early tomorrow morning, so to bed with you all. Don't stay up too late catching up with your friends!" Dumbledore turned to help Professor Figg to her feet and the students in the hall rose with a loud scraping of benches to return to their dormitories.

Hermione had stood up and started moving as soon as Dumbledore concluded his speech, hurrying off towards the end of the table where the new students were sitting. "Where are you going?" Ron called after her.

"I've got to show the first years up to the common room," she called back over her shoulder. Ron raced off after her, muttering something about Percy under his breath, leaving Harry with Ginny and the twins.

Harry noticed as they made their way slowly through the crowd of people that he seemed to be receiving fewer dirty looks from the student populace. He desperately hoped that Professor Dumbledore's speech had done its job at convincing the school that he wasn't to blame. Just as Harry reached the stairs, however, a Ravenclaw roughly shouldered past him and Harry's heart sank again.

"Hey, watch out, Harry," cried George, as Harry almost knocked him sprawling while struggling to regain his balance.

"Sorry, someone knocked into me," replied Harry. "He should be a Beater," he muttered under his breath and Ginny laughed.

When they had finally made their way through the crowd to the stairs, Ginny couldn't take it any longer. "Come on!" she cried impatiently. "What did you do to Ron to make him so embarrassed?"

"Ah, it was brilliant!" exclaimed Fred, slinging an arm around Ginny's shoulders.

"Yeah," said George, making as if to do the same to Harry, then cringing back in mock fear at the fist Harry jokingly showed him.

"We fed him a Midget Mint," continued Fred, "and convinced him to wash it down with Jumping Juice!"

"He was just like Pigwidgeon," grinned George. "About two inches high and racing around the compartment at top speed, threatening to do all sorts of horrible things to us when he got back to normal size!"

"I'll have you burping up slugs for a month!" Fred mimicked in a high-pitched, squeaky voice. "No! Slugs are too good for the two of you!" Harry bent almost double with laughter, leaning against the banister of the stairs for support.

"Of course, we were gone by the time he was big enough to pick up his wand. But that's the great thing about Weasley tempers. Easy come, easy go."

"By the time he found us talking to the witch with the lunch trolley, he was more hungry than anything else and forgot all about the things he was going to do to us."

"Some of them sounded really interesting though," said George thoughtfully. "Do you reckon we could make a Wheeze that would turn you pink?"

"And if we did," said Fred, awed with his own genius, "do you think we could convince Snape to have one?"

Harry just laughed along with Ginny as the twins continued brainstorming all the way to Gryffindor Tower.


	19. Nightmare in Gryffindor Tower

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   


**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 19: Nightmare in Gryffindor Tower**

Harry's scream was still ringing in the silence as he sat up in bed, gasping for breath. It had been some time since he had had a nightmare at all, let alone one this bad. He instinctively patted the bed next to him, looking for Ginny's reassuring presence. When she wasn't there, it came to him: he was at Hogwarts now. There was a boys' dormitory and a girls' dormitory. He and Ginny had said goodnight on the stairs.

Then Harry became aware of something else. His curtains were open and his dorm-mates were standing all around his bed, gaping at him. "Are – are you all right, Harry?" stammered Neville, looking terrified.

Harry quickly decided that trying to wipe the tears from his cheeks would only make them more obvious. He did, however, take a few deep breaths, trying to slow his racing heart, before nodding. "I'm sorry, guys, just a nightmare. Go back to sleep." There were a few sympathetic nods from around him and everyone trooped back to bed.

Half an hour later, after Harry's second nightmare, Harry's dorm-mates weren't quite so sympathetic. After the third nightmare, at half past eleven, a delegation was sent from the sixth-year boys dormitory to see what was wrong. By one o'clock in the morning, the fifth year boys had been woken five times and visited by someone from each dormitory.

"Jus' go ba' to slee'," moaned Seamus Finnigan, as the first year girls finally overcame their nervousness to come up and see what was going on.

Harry could see that this was getting no-where. "I'm going down to the common room," he announced. A series of half-hearted but approving grunts and moans answered him, so Harry gloomily picked up his pillow and duvet and moved down to the common room.

***

"Screams like a girl," Harry heard a cold, amused voice drawling from the Slytherin table, as he sat in a half-asleep stupor at breakfast. The night had not improved for Harry after he had moved down to the common room. The other residents of Gryffindor Tower had probably managed to get a half-decent sleep, mainly thanks to the silencing spell he had heard one of the twins muttering from the stairs, but Harry had had no such welcome respite.

The nightmares seemed to be attempting to make up for lost time: although he had managed to avoid them for the second half of the summer, they had returned more frequently and violently than before. This time, instead of simply replaying the events of that awful June night, the characters in his nightmare had begun to accuse him of murder. Every Muggle-born student in the school paraded past him with glassy, staring eyes and accusing expressions. Harry could only watch in horror as each person was tortured and murdered in front of him and they screamed that it was his fault.

From the other side of the room, Malfoy did a credible impression of a girl's scream, which was greeted by roars of laughter from the Slytherins. "Oi! Potter!" Harry raised his bleary eyes to look at Malfoy in what he hoped could pass for a glare. Malfoy seemed unperturbed. "Is it true, Potter? I hear they wouldn't even let you sleep in your own bed last night! Kicked you out into the common room. Although," Malfoy turned to his cronies and put on a stage whisper, "if he was sleeping in _my_ dormitory, I'd probably do the same thing. Imagine having to _sleep_ that close to Potter. He'd give anyone nightmares!"

Harry didn't have the energy to respond and merely laid his head down in front of him, thumping it softly on the table in frustration.

"Mr. Potter? Please come with me."

It was Professor McGonagall. Harry dragged himself up from the table and drooped along behind her towards the hospital wing, taking comfort in the fact that she didn't _look_ angry.

He was too exhausted even to protest as Madam Pomfrey bustled around him, taking his temperature and staring into his eyes. "This boy's obviously been up all night," she clucked accusingly to Professor McGonagall, "and if he has had any sleep, it wasn't restful, so it didn't do him any good. I won't stand for it, Minerva. I could give him a dreamless sleep potion, but they're addictive, you know. But if he doesn't have it, a delicate thing like him, in a few days he'll be completely exhausted. Just look at him now after one night! No, we have to find some way to stop the nightmares without a potion."

"I know a way," said Harry dully, then immediately clamped his mouth shut. That was all he needed – he could just imagine Professor McGonagall's lips growing thinner and thinner at the idea of him sleeping in the same bed as another student.

"Harry?" asked Madam Pomfrey, acknowledging his existence as a person for the first time. "What will help you?"

But Harry wouldn't say another word and eventually Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall gave up on trying to extract it from him. He didn't resist as Madam Pomfrey hustled him into a bed, stoically enduring her frustrated looks. Harry eagerly downed the small goblet of purple dreamless sleep potion at his bedside, even though it would only help him sleep for a few hours. The room seemed to go slightly hazy and Harry fell immediately into a deep sleep.

***

Harry awoke with a cry and felt a surge of magic coursing through his body. The goblet that had held his dreamless sleep potion shattered and Harry sat trembling as his tears fell unchecked onto the starched white hospital sheets. The light was quite different in the hospital wing. Harry surmised that although the dreamless sleep potion had given him a few hours respite, it had eventually worn off, leaving him prey to the nightmares again.

Slowly recovering, Harry began to take in his surroundings and immediately felt the heat rise in his cheeks. Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were standing at the foot of his bed, watching him as though he were a time bomb. "I'm… I'm sorry…" he stuttered cautiously, although whether for the goblet or the fact that he was taking up their time with his bad dreams, he wasn't quite sure.

Ginny was peeking out from behind the teachers and mouthing something at him. He was only able to understand her because the words she said were the same ones she had been saying all summer: "It's not your fault!"

"This cannot go on, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore gravely, "especially if your dreams are beginning to make you lose control of your powers.Professor McGonagall has informed me that you have found something to stop your nightmares, but that you refuse to tell her about it." Dumbledore's eyes began twinkling wildly. "I must confess to having some idea what it might be, so I took the liberty of inviting Miss Weasley in here, so that you can have a small chat. I would encourage you to reveal your solution – for your own sake as well as that of your dorm-mates."

Harry and Ginny stared at each other as the teachers departed, then Ginny slumped down into the chair beside Harry's bed. "How bad are they?" she asked.

"I had fourteen," he replied and then hesitated before continuing. "I'm sorry about this, but it's probably important for this – I told your father that we had been sleeping in the same bed."

Harry cringed, expecting some sort of explosion, but Ginny was surprisingly calm as she responded, "I thought you must have: that conversation you were having with Dad on the way to Diagon Alley was obviously fairly uncomfortable and I know you felt bad about not telling my parents."

"So – so you don't mind?" asked Harry, hopefully.

"Depends!" grinned Ginny. "What did he say?"

Harry relaxed. "He said that he was glad that your nightmares had stopped and that he trusted me to do the right thing by you."

"So," said Ginny, her grin widening even further, "I guess we call the professors back in and tell them we need to sleep together!"

***

To say that Professor McGonagall had been shocked would have been an understatement. Dumbledore had obviously guessed what was going on and merely winked at the two before guiding McGonagall out by her elbow. When she returned a good ten minutes later she seemed, if not entirely happy, at least resigned to the idea.

There was some debate among the professors about exactly where the two could sleep. In the end it was decided that since the Head Boy and Girl this year were a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin, they could use the Gryffindor head dormitory. Professor Dumbledore then looked at them both gravely. "This is only an acceptable solution because the nature of the relationship between the two of you is entirely platonic. I trust you both to let me know if things change?"

Ginny turned beet-red and Harry felt sure he was not much different. "Yes, sir," they chorused.

"Right! That's settled then," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "You will find that your things will be moved to your new room before bedtime. You'd better head off to lunch now, you can't spend the rest of the day on an empty stomach!"

Harry and Ginny hurried down to the Great Hall, arriving just as most people were finishing up.

"Harry!" called Hermione. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks," he replied, eyeing the remains of a shepherd's pie near Ron, "but I'm _starving_."

"Help yourself, mate," said Ron, pushing the big dish down the table. Harry dished out generous servings for himself and Ginny and began to eat.

"You'd better hurry," fretted Hermione. "We've got Herbology in fifteen minutes and we've still got to walk out to the greenhouses."

"Ha!" snorted Ginny between mouthfuls of her own pie. "I've got to get to Study of Magical Runes and that's way over on the other side of the castle. Don't you worry, Hermione, if _I'm_ going to make it on time, I'm sure _you_ will!"

"Don't talk, eat!" exclaimed Hermione, seemingly horrified by the idea of missing a class. "Oh, Harry, you missed the most awful Potions lesson this morning. I think Snape believes you had nightmares just get out of his class because he took about fifty points off Gryffindor in class."

"Wish I'd thought of having nightmares to get out of Potions," grumbled Ron half-seriously, to be silenced by an elbow in the ribs from Hermione.

"You don't know the half of it," Harry replied grimly. He suddenly didn't feel very hungry anymore and pushed away his plate. "Let's go. See you this evening, Ginny."

Ginny gave him a sympathetic look and then grabbed a last bite of pie before rushing off to her Runes lesson.

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked along towards the greenhouses in uncomfortable silence, until it became too much for Harry to bear. "Look, I'll tell you this evening, all right?" he finally burst out, "I've got a few things I need to tell you anyway."

"Fine," said Hermione. "I've got a few things to talk to you about as well. I just need to pick up a couple of books from the library before dinner. We can talk in my new room; that way we can have all the privacy we want without having to wait up all night for the common room to empty."

"The library, Hermione?" groaned Ron, "Isn't it a bit early in the term?"

The atmosphere changed as Hermione and Ron started squabbling, although Hermione still shot the occasional nervous look at Harry. Harry was simply trying to think of a way of phrasing what he had to say that night. _Guess what, Hermione! Voldemort's probably going to try to kill you and your parents just because you're my friend!_

Harry could just imagine how brilliantly _that_ would go down.


	20. Questions and More Questions

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   


**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 20: Questions and More Questions**

Harry and Ron were sitting at the top of the girls' staircase, waiting for Hermione outside her new Prefect room. It became apparent exactly why she was ten minutes late when they saw her, or rather an enormous pile of books they assumed was Hermione, struggling up the stairs towards them.

"You're not serious," said Ron flatly.

The pile of books merely ignored him, struggling up another step despite the fact that Hermione didn't seem to be able to see at all over everything she was carrying. Harry hurried down to her and took about half the books, staggering slightly under the weight. Hermione made it up the rest of the stairs with much less effort and then leaned close to the door, whispering a password that Harry and Ron couldn't hear. At Ron's disappointed look, she merely shrugged unrepentantly and said, "I'm not _allowed_ to let anyone know what it is."

The door swung open and they trooped in. Harry dumped the books he was carrying onto Hermione's beautiful red and gold swirled bedspread and then looked around.

It was about a third of the size of their dormitory, which meant there was plenty of room for only one person. The bed itself was much larger than the already luxurious beds in their dormitories. There was a large desk with a chair on either side, presumably for Hermione to attend to her duties as a prefect, counselling younger students. Next to the wardrobe there was an enormous bookshelf, looking fairly sparsely populated with only Hermione's textbooks for the last few years. Harry was willing to bet that before the year was out, it would be entirely stuffed full of books designed for "light reading."

Crookshanks, Hermione's enormous ginger cat, observed her regally from his position atop the bookshelf as she sorted her library books into shelves, keeping a fairly small pile aside on her bedside table. Harry had been drawn to one of the larger books Hermione put into the shelves and had to stifle an incredulous laugh when he saw the title: _10,001 Questions They Might (But Probably Won't) Ask on the O.W.Ls_. When he turned from flicking through it, he saw that Hermione had finished her sorting and his two friends were sitting comfortably on Hermione's bed patiently waiting for him to sit down and start telling them what was going on.

"Uh," said Harry, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, sliding the book back onto the shelf and running over what he wanted to say in his mind. Voldemort was trying to kill Hermione's parents and he was sleeping with Ron's sister. He tried hard to think of a less explosive topic, but failed miserably. "Would you like to start, Hermione?" he asked hopefully.

"No," she replied firmly. "I wouldn't be able to concentrate properly, because I've been wondering all day what you've got to tell us."

Harry sighed. This was going to be hard. If only Ginny were here! She always managed to sound comforting after a nightmare and Harry could just imagine her being invaluable in breaking the news to Hermione and knowing how to calm down her brother. Then he realised something: _Ginny_ was his friend in the same way that Ron and Hermione were. From what Ginny had told him about her relationship with her brother over the summer, he was sure Ron wouldn't _really_ mind if Ginny started hanging around with them and he was certain that Hermione would appreciate having another girl around every now and then. Of course it couldn't be the same since she was a year younger than they were and in different classes. At an occasion like this, however…

"Would either of you mind," Harry tentatively ventured, "if I went and got Ginny? It's just that some of what I've got to say affects her, too, and I've told her pretty much everything over the summer."

Hermione looked slightly puzzled, but accepted the idea without question. "Go on then," she said.

Ron looked frankly stumped. "My sister?" he asked incredulously. "What's she got to do with you having nightmares? Or You-Know-Who, if that's what it is you want to talk about? I mean," he clarified, "I know that You-Know-Who was after her, but we try to shelter her from that sort of stuff. She's just a kid!"

Harry merely said, "You wouldn't call her a kid if you'd heard her nightmares," and hurried out the door. Once he was outside, Harry heard the unmistakable sound of Hermione beginning to lecturing Ron on the dangers of overprotective siblings and all the things that Ron himself had done by the time he was Ginny's age. He grinned slightly before going down the stairs to find Ginny.

***

Ginny had been no trouble to find; she was in the common room working on some homework. When Harry had told her what he was telling Ron and Hermione, she had smiled a little grimly and agreed to help him break the news. They made their way up the stairs in silence.

Since Harry had left the door slightly ajar when he left, all that was required to re-enter the room was a small push on the door. The door swung open silently and Ron and Hermione didn't notice that he had returned with Ginny. They had obviously settled their differences, because they were… _busy_.

Harry actually thought it was rather sweet, seeing them like this. They were really only in contact in two places: Ron touched his forefinger lightly under Hermione's chin, tipping her face up to his own, and his lips rested ever so gently on hers. Both their eyes were closed and they were totally involved in one another, oblivious to the outside world. Ginny let out a stifled giggle from behind him, obviously as touched as Harry was by the sight.

After silently debating what to do, Harry motioned for Ginny to follow him back out the door and down the stairs. Ron and Hermione had tried so hard not to do anything that might make him uncomfortable; he didn't want to make them think that he didn't appreciate their efforts by embarrassing them in a situation like this.

Once down in the common room, they started a loud conversation about an incident at the Dursleys and then made their way up the stairs again. On about the third morning of her stay at Privet Drive, Ginny, knowing no other way to do so, had unthinkingly used magic to boil the kettle for a cup of tea. It had nearly sent Uncle Vernon into cardiac arrest and it was only Aunt Petunia's timely reminder of the money they were set to receive at the end of the holidays that had halted his rant of disgust and outrage at her audacity. It had not, however, prevented him from turning an ugly sort of puce and glaring at them from around corners for the rest of the day. It had put Harry and Ginny into hysterics every time they saw him, since usually when he thought he was hiding behind the doorframes, about half of his rather large body was entirely visible.

When they entered the room again, laughing at the memory, Hermione and Ron were once again demurely sitting beside each other. Ron and Hermione's attempted casual appearance was only slightly spoiled by the pinkness in Ron's ears and flush in Hermione's cheeks. Harry and Ginny exchanged a small smile, but didn't say anything.

Soon all four of them were curled up on a corner of the bed, warily eyeing one another. Hermione finally broke the silence. "You start, Harry. What's going on with your nightmares? Why are they so bad? What is it that we don't know the half of? What are the teachers doing about it? And…"

"All right, Hermione, hold on, and let him speak!" Hermione glared at Ron but stopped speaking and waited.

Harry stared down at the bedspread, absently tracing a gold swirl with his fingertip. "I… I had another dream about Voldemort," Ron and Hermione flinched, "the night before last. I don't remember much, but what I do remember is that he's not focussing on getting Ginny to get to me anymore. He…"

Harry broke off, not having managed to come up with any better way to say it since lunch. He was saved by Ginny, who continued for him. "He's going after the Muggle-borns at Hogwarts, as well as their families. Starting with the ones closest to Harry. But don't worry," she rushed on at Hermione's terrified gasp, "Dumbledore's getting a teacher to be a Secret Keeper for the family of every fifth year Muggle-born. So your family will be fine, Hermione!"

Hermione still looked very white, accepting the comforting arm around the shoulders that Ron offered her. "That's almost exactly how I was planning to say it!" hissed Harry indignantly to Ginny. "Only I've been trying all day to think of a more tactful way to put it!"

"No," said Hermione slowly. "It's okay. I can see that they'll be safe, it's just a bit of a shock, that's all. Now, what are the teachers doing about your nightmares?"

Harry could feel his ears burning and Ginny's freckles seemed to be attempting to blend in against the flush suffusing her face. "Ginny has really bad nightmares, too," said Harry, "and we developed… well, we developed an _understanding_ over the holidays." Harry looked up at Ron hopefully, but was disappointed. Ron's face was almost as red as Ginny's.

"What does that mean?" interjected Hermione clinically.

"Well," said Harry, even more nervous now, "we're just friends and that's why Dumbledore said it was okay – he wouldn't have otherwise, you know – but we couldn't sleep through each other's nightmares and so we ended up getting up all the time during the night and then once we were both so _tired_ that we just fell asleep together and the nightmares just–" Harry broke off, realising that he was rambling.

"Stopped," Ginny finished for him. "Dumbledore's given us the Head dormitory in Gryffindor Tower so that Harry can get some sleep this year and," she shot an apologetic look at Harry, "so can everyone else."

Ron stared at them both. "Oh," he said quietly. "Oh," he said again and Harry winced.

"Is that all?" Ron asked finally. "What did you think I was going to say? I saw you after your dreams last night, Harry, and I can tell you that if anything can stop that – even if it's my little sister – then it's a good thing." Ron paused, then said with a grin, "Then there's also the fact that I need my sleep as well. I'm not going to get that if you're up and down all night!"

Harry grinned back before continuing. "When I'm having one of my dreams of Voldemort, my scar hurts so much when he uses an Unforgivable that I wake up. The night before last, Ginny cast that healing spell on my scar during the dream and I managed to sleep right through to the end of the meeting. I think that's probably going to be really useful; I wouldn't have known that he was going after the Muggle-borns' parents if I had woken up when he was punishing his Death Eaters."

Hermione was looking a bit sick. "You're going to have to watch him torture people?"

"It's better than having him kill the people I care about to get to me," said Harry grimly. "Anyway, I don't usually remember any more than the gist of what he said, so it doesn't really bother me all that much."

Looking even more horrified by the fact that he could hardly remember his dreams, Hermione said, "But what if you forget something he says, Harry? What if he says something near the beginning and you can't remember it anymore when you wake up?"

Harry just shrugged. "There's nothing I can really do about that. Besides, from what Dumbledore said last year in the hospital wing, I think that Snape is probably back spying for him, so he'll probably know most of what goes on anyway. Come to think of it…" Harry paused as something flickered on the edge of his consciousness then shook his head in frustration. "No, it's gone. I just think that I might have seen him in one of my dreams. But I'm not sure."

Hermione was still looking thoughtful. "I'm sure there's something that I've read about that would help. I just can't put my finger on it." Hermione wore the expression that had become so familiar to Ron and Harry. She was not going to give up until she could be sure that Harry could remember everything. Ron rolled his eyes at Harry behind her back, but Harry sobered quickly. After all, the lives of her parents could be at stake.

"All right," said Hermione, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. "If you're finished with what you've got to tell us, Harry, there are a couple of things that I've been looking up in the library that you need to know about. I've been researching Promise Rings because something about the one you've got seemed odd. I found quite a comprehensive section in _Mystical Magical Artefacts_. It seems they have a few interesting properties, like augmenting your power and so on. But I'll let you read that for yourself." She handed an enormous tome from her bedside table to Harry. "The most interesting thing for _you_ though, is that Promise Rings have different forms depending on the person. The form is significant, symbolising an aspect of the love between the two people."

Harry grabbed for the ring hanging around his neck to get another look at it. "It's a snake," he said dubiously. "And it's silver with little green eyes. What does that mean, Hermione?"

"Oh, honestly," she huffed. "Read this, if you can't work it out for yourself." She pulled another book from the stack on her bedside table, flipped to the appropriate page and shoved it at him.

It seemed to be some kind of yearbook. There was a photo of his father on the left page along with the caption, _James Potter, Head Boy of 1978, Gryffindor House_. There were a few paragraphs apparently written by his father, but Harry didn't read them. He looked at the facing page, which held a photograph of his mother. Her caption read, _Lily Evans, Head Girl of 1978, _… That couldn't be right. Could it?


	21. Lily Evans, Head Girl of 1978, Slytherin

**A/N: **It's great to know that I have such a following of informed readers. Yes, I know, JKR said in an interview that Lily is definitely in Gryffindor. Unfortunately I only found this interview the day before I posted the last chapter and I have been planning/writing this fic for four months. I decided it was too late to change this element of the plot. I apologise for my inadequate research. I did not even think to check the interviews, I merely scoured the books for any mention of Lily's past. It is a fairly minor part of my story; I believe that after this chapter it will only be mentioned in passing. Please consider this fic to be slightly AU if you like. Special thanks also to Astral, who convinced me to change my dates by bringing an exact canon date to my attention.

Thanks also go to whichever fanfic I read the "Bravery, intelligence, loyalty and evil" in - I can't remember author or title, but the idea was so brilliant I had to use it!

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   


**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 21: Lily Evans, Head Girl of 1978, Slytherin House**

"My mother was _evil_?" choked Harry

"Of course she wasn't evil, Harry!" sighed Hermione. "What? Do you think that 'Slytherin' means the same thing as 'evil'?"

Harry just stared at her and finally decided that she was off her rocker. Ron voiced Harry's thoughts out loud. "_Yes!_"

Hermione sighed again. "She was _Muggle-born_! Do you really think she could be a pureblood supremacist?" Seeing that they still looked sceptical, she continued, "If you were creating a school and you picked the four cardinal virtues to represent houses, what would you pick? Bravery, intelligence, loyalty and _evil_?"

"What else are those slimy Slytherins?" scoffed Ron.

"Determined," said Hermione. "Shrewd. Focussed. Just because you hardly ever get an evil wizard who isn't those things, doesn't mean that you can't get good wizards who know what they want and will do what they need to do so they can get it. The difference is that the evil wizards don't temper these good qualities with morals. But that's the same in all the other houses as well!

"'Gryffindor' doesn't mean the same thing as 'good' – look at Peter Pettigrew! His bravery didn't do him much good when he used it to betray his best friends. Cornelius Fudge was a Hufflepuff and he's turned out to be so loyal to his point of view that You-Know-Who has come back without him noticing! Rita Skeeter was a Ravenclaw. She used her intelligence and learning to become an illegal Animagus, so that she could find out people's secrets and ruin their lives. Are any of those much better than a dark wizard?"

Harry had to admit that he couldn't argue with that - but still…

"Most of the greatest Aurors were Slytherins," Hermione pushed on. "Mad-Eye Moody was a Slytherin. Professor Figg was a Slytherin. _Your mother_ was a Slytherin. I'd list more, but you probably wouldn't know who they were. It's not _what_ we are that defines us as people, it's what we choose to make of ourselves."

Suddenly struck by a sense of déjà vu, Harry found himself remembering what Dumbledore had told him after he had come back from the Chamber of Secrets. _It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities._

"I'll have to think about it," he said finally. "It's just a bit to wrap my head around, you know?" Harry paused, as he thought back over what Hermione had said, "Hang on… Did you say that my mum was an Auror?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah – it says in there that she was heading off for Auror training as soon as she finished school. Your dad was going to play Quidditch professionally – but I can't remember for which team."

Ron looked at her incredulously and started to splutter, but Harry just nodded. "Can I borrow these?" he asked, waving both books at Hermione, then holding them against his chest as she nodded. "Thanks. Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes," she said. "You remember what I said about the thing in Cedric's death notice, where they asked donations to go to The Order of the Phoenix? I couldn't find any record of an organisation like that, but I looked through some back issues of the _Prophet_ from years ago and I found a whole lot of obituaries that said the same thing. I found something linking all the deaths." Hermione paused, waiting for one of them to ask what it was.

Harry finally gave in. "What?"

"They were all killed by You-Know-Who," said Hermione with a lopsided smile. "That's what it means, you see? It means that Cedric's family believes that You-Know-Who killed him."

"I know," replied Harry. "They told me that they didn't blame me at the end of the last year. I'm glad they believed me, at least," he said morosely.

"I _also _wanted to talk to you about _grief_," Hermione cut in, seemingly changing the subject. "My mother had a talk to me when I got home and I found it really helped to understand the phases I experienced. I know that you seem to be coping with it well, or at least you are now. But after I got home from our trip to Diagon Alley, I realised that there are others around who aren't coping so well and that it might help you to understand what's going on inside their heads."

The subject of this discussion could not have been clearer if Hermione had been shouting the name _Cho Chang_.

"There are five main stages of grief. Any one can take as long as required and they can reoccur or be a bit out of order. The first stage is denial or shock. It takes a while for it to sink in that something's actually happened. I think that it hadn't really hit anyone properly until they went home for the holidays that Cedric was dead." Harry winced at the matter-of-fact tone in which she said the word dead, but nodded for her to continue when she made to stop talking.

"The second phase," she continued, "is anger, often directed at the wrong person. A person who's dying might blame their doctor. Some people blame themselves even though it's _not_ their fault." Hermione studiously avoided looking at Harry as she said this. "And… a person whose friend was murdered might blame the last person to see him alive."

Hermione paused for a moment then continued in a low but adamant voice, "She's not going to listen to rational explanations or realise how her actions are making you feel. It's not even really her fault; it's partially her grief making her irrational. She has all this anger and she has to direct it somewhere. The wizarding world hasn't heard any evidence beyond Dumbledore's word that You-Know-Who's back, so she can't blame him. Do you see that you're the only one left? I'm sure she doesn't really think that you killed him, or at least she won't after she's properly come to her senses. But she's got to work through this and it's going to be pretty tough on you in the meantime."

"So what do I do?" Harry asked, sure he knew the answer already.

"Nothing," said Hermione firmly. "She hasn't chosen to let you in; you can't help her, so all you can do is ignore her."

Harry nodded. That was the answer he had feared. Sitting still never suited him; it always made him nervous and fidgety. If there was nothing he _could_ do, though…

"So what have we got to look forward to?" he asked bitterly. "I mean, what are the next stages?"

"The third stage is bargaining, but that never lasts very long, because no one has the power to take away a loss like that," said Hermione dismissively, before continuing in a more sombre tone. "Fourth is depression, that's where you really have to worry about someone because they won't tell you how they feel and if it's too bad, they're likely to try something _drastic_."

Harry found himself remembering one night at the beginning of the summer, when he had woken after a nightmare. He had gone down to the kitchen to find a knife and then stood in the downstairs bathroom, holding the long, sharp carving knife against his neck. He remembered thinking that it would be rather ironic for the Dursleys to have to clean up after him for once in his life. After a lengthy internal debate, he had ended up returning the knife to the kitchen. The Dursleys had been none the wiser the next morning.

He suddenly found himself feeling quite sorry for Cho. If he could make her feel better by letting her yell at him, then so be it.

"After that is acceptance," Hermione was continuing. "That's the final stage, where the person comes to accept that the loss has happened and will not change, but that their life goes on regardless."

Harry sighed, "I hope she gets there eventually." They all sat in silence considering that for several moments.

It was Ron who eventually broke the silence. "So," he said lightly, "you're sleeping with my sister, Harry!" Harry looked up quickly, worried that Ron might be serious and was quickly reassured by the grin on his face. "You'll want some tips on how to deal with her, then," continued Ron in a stage whisper.

"Ron!" warned Ginny in an ominous voice.

"Should you ever find yourself at her mercy, know that she has one vulnerable point – she's tremendously _ticklish_."

"_Ron_," Ginny hissed, "I do_ not_ appreciate you sharing that bit of information." She didn't manage to say any more though because Ron had lunged at her and proceeded to worm her into a position where he could tickle her effectively. Hermione was laughing hysterically at the antics of the two siblings and Harry wasn't far from doing the same.

By the time that Ron had wrestled Ginny into an inescapable position, Hermione had managed to recover enough to rescue the other girl by dealing Ron a blow with her pillow. Harry joined in, taking Ron's side and attempting to incapacitate Hermione. Harry's glasses went flying almost immediately, but he didn't care that he couldn't see more than three blurs instead of his friends as the situation rapidly degenerated into a free-for-all pillow fight.

His conscience asserted itself briefly, but he remembered his resolution of the summer: have enough fun to make up for all that Cedric would have had, all that his parents would have had. A pillow hitting his face brought his attention back to the fight and Harry waded back in with a vengeance, his pillow dealing deadly blows left and right.

As the first pillow burst, showering them all with downy white feathers, the four friends collapsed in a giggling heap on the floor. Somehow all the issues they had discussed didn't seem quite so life threatening any more.


	22. Mrs Figg

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 22: Mrs. Figg**

Apparently Dumbledore had cast some sort of charm on the Head dormitory because, besides their dorm mates and best friends, whom they had told, nobody seemed to notice Harry and Ginny's comings and goings from their new room. Harry was quite relieved to see the way people's eyes simply slid past the open door. He didn't like to think of what would happen if Draco Malfoy or Snape or someone like Rita Skeeter had heard about the special arrangement.

The whole thing seemed to have been handled very efficiently and discreetly, which made Harry wonder how many students had needed special arrangements of some sort over the years.

As he snuggled down against Ginny and began drifting into a peaceful sleep, Harry couldn't help but feel like he had come home. Even if Ginny did steal all the covers.

***

After breakfast the next morning, the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins packed into the first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson of the year. The teacher's desk was vastly different from how it had been in previous years. For one thing, the chair behind it had been replaced by a squashy and comfortable-looking armchair. It was also much shorter than it had been in the past, looking more like a coffee table than anything else. On top of the table was a blue and white floral teapot, a large plate of rather elderly looking chocolate cake, and one chipped mug with a wizard portrait of cats all over it. The cats were playing like kittens around the mug, hiding, chasing, jumping and play-fighting. The class was, in fact, so entranced by their antics, that they hardly noticed their teacher entering the room.

"Hello, dears," came a voice from the door of the classroom. Professor Figg was moving arthritically towards her desk. The class held their breath as she moved across the room slowly, finally dropping appreciatively into her chair. "Harry, dear, I wondered when I'd see you," she quavered when she noticed Harry in the front row. "I haven't seen you much since you came off to school. You'll have to drop by my office sometime. I've got so many more pictures to show you!"

Harry nodded politely, his face burning from being singled out so familiarly. Privately, he decided to delay that visit as long as possible. Whenever the Dursleys had wanted to do something without Harry they had asked Mrs. Figg, who lived across the road, to look after him. Those days were among the most boring Harry could remember, as he was shown album after album full of photos of the elderly lady's countless cats.

Professor Figg returned her attention to the class, her rheumy eyes sharpening. "Now, all of you help yourselves to some chocolate cake before the lesson and we'll talk about the rules for my class." Tapping her teapot once with her wand, Figg poured herself a cup of tea and leaned back in her armchair. Several brave students moved to the front of the class to take a piece of chocolate cake, although it looked as though all of them regretted it as soon as they had taken their first bite.

"First rule:" she began, "I do not hold with the deduction of house points, or giving detentions. If I catch you misbehaving, you will leave the class. On your first offence, it will only be for the rest of the lesson, but if you misbehave again, you will not darken my door for a week. Third offence you will not return to my class for two weeks, and so on. You will still be required to hand in any homework, but you will not be allowed to attend the lessons relating to it.

"Second rule: do not assume that since I am old, I am weak. I see all and hear all and I will be most willing to curse you out of my classroom.

"And the third and final rule: give everything your best attempt. This year the coursework will be _hard_. Although all students will be benefited to some extent, only the more powerful among you will master all aspects of what we cover. It is, however, your effort that is being marked, so mastery of those elements of this course out of your reach is not necessary." Neville Longbottom heaved a deep sigh of relief, voicing the feelings of most of the class. Neville didn't seem to be particularly good at any subject at Hogwarts, other than Herbology, despite his hard work. He was obviously glad of the prospect of one O.W.L. he could get simply by putting in his best effort.

"Now, you will not be needing to take notes or read books in this class," Hemione gasped in horror, and then sighed with relief as Professor Figg went on, "although it will be one of the fundamentals of your homework." Ron winked at Harry when Hermione wasn't looking and Harry had to suppress a smirk.

"You need not put up your hands to answer questions; I don't know any of your names, except Harry here. Just call out your answers and we will conduct a discussion. Our topic for this year is protection. Not counter-curses," she added quickly, as Hermione's hand reached for the ceiling, "I know you dealt with them last year. This year is not about protecting yourself from each spell that is thrown at you, it is about protecting you from them _all_. We will start with how to protect yourself and then move on to protecting others towards the end of the year. Now, who knows anything about the protection of oneself?"

Hermione's hand shot up, but Professor Figg ignored it. "Anyone?"

Professor Figg didn't even seem to notice Hermione as she bounced up and down, but she immediately acknowledged Draco Malfoy's voice, which drawled from the back of the room, "It takes raw power."

"Exactly. Raw power. Like the accidental magic you may have caused before you came to Hogwarts, before you used a wand. And can anyone see the advantage this gives to protective magic?"

Hermione's body seemed to stretch as she raised her hand higher and higher, but she winced as Ron's elbow caught her in the ribs. "We're just supposed to call it out, remember?" he hissed to her.

Hermione flushed. "It can be done without a wand, Professor," she said breathlessly.

"Excellent," said Professor Figg. "But what about disadvantages?"

"Your protection is only as strong as your magic," answered Hermione, promptly, but a little worriedly, "so the strength of your protection does not rely on how well you know the spell, but rather the innate power of the caster."

"Indeed," said Professor Figg, taking a sip from her tea. "Any other disadvantages? Someone else this time," she added, forestalling Hermione's answer.

"It uses up your reserves of power and you can become exhausted quickly," drawled Malfoy again.

"Right you are," said Professor Figg. "Given all this, can anyone think of the way you might access the most basic level of protective magic?"

This time Harry answered, getting the feeling for this informal class, "If you're angry or scared, Professor?"

"Goodness you're a bright class! Yes, indeed, Harry. Are there any other spells you know which harness emotions?"

Harry could only think of one. "The Patronus Charm," he replied.

"Would you be able to explain and then demonstrate that for us?" Professor Figg asked, taking another sip of her tea.

"Um – well, a Patronus protects you against Dementors. You have to focus on a happy memory to make it work," said Harry and then immediately felt guilty for such a short explanation. "A _really_ happy memory of something that's fairly life-changing. Mine's – mine's the moment when I thought that I was going to move away from my aunt and uncle's." Harry concentrated hard on that moment over a year ago. When Sirius Black had said, _Once my name's cleared … if you wanted a … a different home …_

"_Expecto Patronum_," cried Harry and a silvery form burst out of the end of his wand.

The silvery stag circled the classroom once before coming back to Harry, bowing solemnly and vanishing. Most of the rest of the class gasped in amazement, but Malfoy scowled and sank lower in his seat, obviously remembering how Harry's Patronus had charged him down when he had dressed as a Dementor to try to frighten Harry. Harry sat down, flushing furiously, but exhilarated from another encounter with the Animagus form of his father.

The rest of the class went fairly quickly, with Professor Figg continuing to explain the intricacies of charms based on feelings, thoughts, and memories. Pavarti Patil demonstrated a makeup charm for the class that required the wish to attract the attention of a particular person. Hermione had the entire class's undivided attention for a moment as she demonstrated a handy summarising spell. There was an audible sigh of complaint and the class slumped back into their seats when she informed them that it would only summarise material they had already read in detail and understood.

When the bell rang, Figg simply dismissed them and then leaned back in her chair, appearing to go to sleep. The class quickly and quietly collected their belongings and filed out.

Once out in the corridor, Hermione sniffed, "_I_ don't think she was very good. No taking notes _indeed_. We don't even have any homework!"

The mute glance Harry exchanged with Ron, though, let him know that they both felt entirely differently to Hermione about Professor Figg. Her relaxed manner may not have provided Hermione with pages of notes, but she had brought the entire class along in understanding in a way that only Professor Lupin had matched.

Ginny was quite right, Harry decided, Professor Figg would almost certainly join Professor Lupin on the "success" page of Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers. Then again, considering that her competition was two Death Eaters and a narcissistic conman, it wasn't so hard.


	23. Quidditch

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 23: Quidditch**

The morning of the trials dawned clear and cool, with Harry and the rest of the team out on the pitch at six in the morning to warm up and review their plans for the trials.

Harry had put a great deal of thought into how to choose the new team members. The Keeper would be fairly easy to choose: he would set up their three Chasers to take shots at the hoops, while the person trialling protected them. The new Gryffindor Keeper would simply be the person who stopped the most goal shots.

They could perform a similar test to select Chasers and Beaters, however there was a great deal more to those roles than individual skill. The three reserve Chasers had to be even better as a team than they were as individual players. The two Beaters had to be the same; it was the Weasley twins' uncanny knowledge of where the other was and what they were going to do that made them such a good team.

Harry eventually decided that they would perform a simple test of goal-shooting or Bludger-batting to pick the best few. Then they would play a mock game with the new Keeper, the three old Chasers and the twins playing one side, while he switched the remaining contestants on and off the pitch for the other team.

After explaining his strategy to the rest of the team, which they accepted with no objections, they took to the air for a warm-up practise session. Harry kicked off hard and flew straight upwards until the Quidditch Pitch had receded to a green splodge on the ground. He turned his broom and dived at the ground as fast as he could and almost whooped with the exhilaration of flying again. The wind whipped his hair about and Harry knew that when he reached the ground it would be even wilder than usual. His robes beat against his legs and the blood pumped in his ears as the ground came slowly closer.

He couldn't resist waiting until the last possible moment before wrenching his broom out of the dive to spiral lazily upwards to check on the team. Katie, Angelina and Alicia were tossing the Quaffle quickly back and forth among themselves as they circled and dove around the pitch. Fred and George seemed to be playing a game that looked a little like tennis. They were hitting a golf ball to each other with the bats they carried to beat off the Bludgers through any one of the three hoops at one end of the pitch.

"Five-three to me!" Fred yelled as George's shot clanged off the side of one of the hoops. Harry dove to retrieve the falling ball before it hit the ground and tossed it back to the cursing George as he soared back into the sky, only to dive again. It was good to be back in the air.

***

When the Gryffindor team finished their warm-up there was quite a crowd standing on the edge of the pitch. It seemed that the entirety of Gryffindor House had turned up to either try out for the team or watch their friends try out. Even Hermione was sitting on the edge of the pitch, although she seemed to have transfigured something into a desk and chair so that she could continue studying as she watched. Harry grinned. He suspected that Hermione's presence had more to do with Ron's intention to try out for Gryffindor Keeper than anything else

The Creevey brothers were twittering excitedly to Ginny, who sent him a long-suffering look as she listened patiently.

"Let's start," called Harry in the loudest voice he could muster past the butterflies in his stomach. Nobody except the closest few heard and Harry's butterflies transfigured immediately into Grindylows. _How can _I_ be Quidditch captain? I can't even make them listen to me!_ Harry thought desperately. _What would Oliver Wood have done?_

"ALL RIGHT!" Harry bellowed at the top of his lungs and the pitch was suddenly eerily silent. Harry went red and then called in a slightly quieter voice, "Who's trying out for Keeper?"

Seven hands went straight up. Ron seemed a bit green as he looked around at his competitors. Harry grinned reassuringly at him as he spoke to all seven. "We'll test for Keepers first. Each candidate will have to protect the hoops as our Chasers attempt to score ten times. Whoever can stop the most shots will be our new Keeper." Harry smiled faintly at a second year, who looked as though he was about to be sick with nerves. "You can work out your order amongst yourselves. Good luck."

Harry watched from the air as the first four candidates flew unsteadily around the hoops, one after the other, without a single save. It seemed that protecting the hoops from Angelina, Alicia, and Katie was impossible as they worked together flawlessly, like the components of a well-oiled machine. Harry was getting a little worried that none of the potential Keepers would be able to prevent a goal from being scored when Mark Ryan, the nervous second year Harry had smiled at, rose into the air.

Unlike the other four, this one handled his broomstick confidently, like a born Quidditch player. He sped up and down and around the hoops three times, before positioning himself slightly to one side of the hoops and signalling that he was ready. Harry watched in amazement as the Chasers moved in towards him menacingly. Katie and Angelina tossed the Quaffle back and forth between them and Angelina feinted convincingly towards the right hoop. As she tossed the Quaffle to Alicia, Mark sped towards the far left hoop, reaching it just as she made the shot, saving the goal spectacularly. Grinning all over his face, the boy tossed the Quaffle back to the Alicia and waited for the next attempt.

Mark managed to save six out of the ten attempts and returned to the ground confidently. Ron looked as though he was about to be ill. The second-last contestant managed to save one goal and then it was Ron's turn.

He missed the first save. Hermione had ceased her work and had her Omnioculars trained on Ron as he saved the second and then the third. The fourth slipped by him, thanks to a tricky little three-pronged manoeuvre by the Chasers, but he saved the fifth and the sixth. Harry caught his breath as the seventh shot looked as though Ron wasn't going to reach it in time, but he managed to save the shot when he got the edge of a foot to it and it bounced of the edge of the hoop. It was technically a save, but it wasn't particularly graceful. If they tied now, Harry knew that he would have to give the position to that second year.

Ron saved the eighth with room to spare, but then the ninth slipped through his extended arms, right through the hoop. He _had_ to save this last shot or Mark would get the position. Ron's face was set as the three Chasers converged on him once more. Alicia passed to Angelina, Angelina back to Alicia, who feinted towards the centre hoop then dashed to the side for the left hoop.

Harry never fully understood what happened, it was all so fast, but suddenly Katie Bell had the Quaffle and was shooting for the right hoop; Ron was way out of position, he was far too high, too far to the left. Then, just as suddenly, Ron was hanging from his broom by his knees with his hands outstretched, holding the Quaffle tightly in his grasp. He had saved the shot. He was the new Gryffindor Keeper.

As captain, Harry knew that he shouldn't openly congratulate one of the contestants for Keeper, so he contented himself with grinning broadly as he flew down to help Ron back onto his broom. Ron grinned back as Harry spoke the words he knew that Ron had been waiting to hear. "Welcome to the team."

***

Mark Ryan, not seeming too phased by his defeat for Keeper had simply tried out for reserve Chaser, entirely flattening the competition. Colin and Dennis Creevey had also been fairly good Chasers on their own, but when teamed up with Mark they had been truly magnificent. Emily Reynolds and Tracey Weller, two rather butch fourth years that Harry hadn't really talked to, had turned out to be pretty good Beaters.

It was Ron, however, who was the real talk of the Gryffindor common room that night. Ron and Harry were supposedly working on their Tarot cards for Divination, although only Harry was making any real progress at predicting his own death by various grisly means. Ron was simply basking in the glory of his spectacular last save, as he was congratulated over and over again by everyone who had been at the trials. Hermione glowered at each new person as they interrupted her work on her Transfiguration essay, but Harry noticed her expression soften as she saw how Ron glowed with happiness. The highlight of Ron's night however, was when Mark had come over. "My dad Keeps for Ireland, you know," said Mark quietly. "I'm not sure that even he would have made that last save."

Ron went bright red, but the smile on his face didn't fade. "You're really good too," he replied generously.

"I should be!" laughed Mark self-deprecatingly. "I was pretty much born on a broomstick and I had the best coach in the world. But," he continued more seriously, "I'm actually glad I'm going to be a Chaser, even if it's just reserve, because I don't really like playing Keeper."

After this strange pronouncement, Mark congratulated Ron again and then wandered off, leaving Ron looking entirely gobsmacked. "He…" said Ron, "he didn't want to be…" He trailed off, staring after Mark's retreating back. "But he almost beat me!"

"Never mind," chuckled Harry as he turned back to his Tarot cards. "You won fair and square, that's all you need to worry about. You're on the team and you deserve it." Ron was still mouthing silently almost ten minutes later when Harry finished his last prediction (suffocation by the giant squid) and went to bed.


	24. The Meeting

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 24: The Meeting**

A full month later, Harry was lying on the grass near the lake with Ron and Hermione in a spare period. Harry, much to Ron's disgust, had actually found that the colour-coded revision chart that Hermione had drawn up for him to be quite useful for organising Quidditch practise, study, and school into each day. There was also the fact that Hermione had only agreed to help Harry research the Animagus transformation on the condition that he follow her study plan to the letter. It was turning out to be quite a novel experience for Harry to wake up on the morning that an essay was due and know that he had done it weeks ago.

This blessed spare period was one of the sparse light blue squares marked "Relaxation" and Harry was enjoying it immensely. The first Hogsmeade weekend had been announced to be in three weeks time. Ron had just revealed that he had eaten his last sugar quill that morning. "How will I _ever _survive History of Magic for the next three weeks?" he was moaning melodramatically, sounding more like his twin brothers than ever before. "Somehow a sugar quill makes it seem to go so much faster, while Binns drones on and on and on."

Harry felt far too lazy to do anything but snigger at Ron's histrionics as he lay on the grass with the warm sun beating down on him. Even Hermione did nothing more than flap idly at him with one hand, catching him a glancing blow on the arm.

"No sugar quills for three weeks!" continued Ron theatrically. "Six lessons with Binns, with nothing but textbooks and my darling Hermione to distract me." Hermione gave a rather silly giggle and flapped at him again, this time catching him in the chest.

Harry ignored them. They had begun to show their affection to each other a little more publicly since about a week before when Harry had told them that it didn't bother him. "It'll be great to get back to Hogsmeade," sighed Harry dreamily. "I've been wanting a Butterbeer all summer. And…"

"How _can_ you?" Harry broke off at the sound of a gasp of horror splitting the lazy morning atmosphere. "How can you talk about going to Hogsmeade when Cedric is dead_?_" Cho Chang pulled frantically to get away from the friend she had been walking with, who was holding her arm tightly. "Let me go!" she sobbed. "Cedric's _dead_, you understand? And it's all _his_ fault!" she yelled, pointing one finger atHarry.

"Come on, Cho, let's just go back to the common room," cajoled the girl holding Cho's arm, pulling insistently in the direction of the castle.

"You don't understand!" shrieked Cho, finally pulling loose and taking off in the opposite direction around the far side of the lake.

Looking supremely frustrated and hurt, Cho's friend watched her retreating back for a full minute before setting off back towards the castle, studiously avoiding eye contact with Harry and his friends. Harry's eyes stayed on Cho as she made her way around the lake past another group of people lazing on the grass. They stood up as she went past and Harry recognised the unmistakable silhouettes of Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy. Cho continued storming past, but Malfoy followed after her, leaving his two bodyguards behind.

Harry groaned and started to get up, although he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do when he caught up with Malfoy.

"No!" cried Hermione.

"Look, Hermione," said Harry in frustration, "whatever Malfoy wants with Cho, I'm sure it's not going to be beneficial to your 'healing process'."

"I'm sure it's not," she replied firmly, "but I'm also certain that having you charging in there trying to 'save' her will make it even worse." Hermione looked at Harry intently and continued in a more gentle voice. "She wants to be alone. She didn't even want her best friend near her. She'll probably hex Malfoy into next week for hassling her. Besides," she added knowingly, "if Malfoy knows that bothering her bothers you, he'll do it all the time."

Harry nodded reluctantly. "You're right…" he started, but was cut off when Hedwig swooped down on him, carrying a note in the bright blue ink he had come to recognise as Professor Dumbledore's.

Harry: Your godfather has just returned from his mission and is awaiting you in my office. Please come as soon as is convenient.

Harry passed the note over to Ron and Hermione, then began gathering up his belongings. "No, you two stay, it's alright," he told them as they made to come with him. As he walked towards the castle, he couldn't help but wonder what Malfoy wanted with Cho.

***

"Canary Cream," Harry muttered to the gargoyle and made his way up to Professor Dumbledore's office.

"'Lo, Sirius," he said, breaking out into an enormous grin. Looking a little uncomfortable at the sight of his godson, Sirius stood and took a couple of steps towards Harry. Harry wasn't quite sure whether he should go over and hug his godfather or not. Sirius had never been particularly tactile with him, but Harry decided that it had to start somewhere. If you had only met the closest thing you were ever going to get to a father when you were thirteen, well…

The space between them vanished as Harry took the initiative. He wrapped his arms around Sirius and the hug was eagerly returned. "It's good to see you, Sirius," Harry mumbled into his godfather's chest.

"It's good to see you, too, Harry," replied Sirius softly, drawing back slightly to look at him. "Are you all right? Dreams better?"

Harry shot a puzzled look at Dumbledore, who smiled as he said, "I needed permission from your guardian, Harry, and I very much doubted that the Dursleys would consent."

Turning back to Sirius, Harry smiled, "My dreams are much better, thanks. School's going well, I'm doing all my homework and I'm not getting into too much trouble."

"I'm heartily ashamed of you," replied Sirius, his heavy tone belied by his enormous grin. "Not even a _small_ Dungbomb in my favourite Potions master's class?" Harry shook his head with a smile, then moved away and sat down, looking expectantly at Dumbledore.

"Now that Harry's finally here," said Sirius from where he stood behind Harry's chair, "can we get _on_ with this?" Sirius managed to sound very frustrated underneath his pleasure at seeing Harry again. "Professor Dumbledore won't tell me what it's about. He keeps _smiling_ at me." Sirius glared at Dumbledore as though this were an insufferable crime. "What's going on?"

Harry transferred his grin to Professor Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling merrily. "I think you need to be sitting down again, Sirius," he instructed cheerfully and then politely refused to continue until Sirius had retreated into the armchair in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"Sherbet Lemon, Harry?" asked Dumbledore. Sirius just growled.

Harry decided to put Sirius out of his misery. "How would you like some proof that Wormtail was the traitor?" he asked, in a rather offhand manner.

Sirius froze. His knuckles went white where his hands gripped the armrests and Harry was quite sure that if he had not been sitting down, he would have fallen. He seemed entirely incapable of speech, and for the longest time, Harry merely grinned at him.

"…nnuh?" Sirius eventually asked in an utterly bewildered voice.

"Now don't get your hopes too far up, Sirius," cautioned Dumbledore. "It's possible, just possible, with the Ministry the way it is at the moment, that they will refuse to even admit the possibility. With that in mind, it is probably not in your best interests to turn yourself in for trial now. However, in the event of your being caught, I should be able to insist upon a trial, and I am quite sure that we would have a good chance of proving your innocence." The twinkling blue eyes turned to regard Harry, "If you would, Harry."

Carefully unclipping his father's pocket watch from his robes, Harry handed it to Sirius. Sirius' hands trembled as he took it and he touched the catch at the side as though it were the trigger to a bomb, staring with open reverence at the face of his dead best friend's watch. He looked stricken as he saw that the hand labelled 'Peter' was resting on 'hiding, you dirty traitor' and he turned his eyes to Dumbledore. "Does Harry understand how the hands on a wizard's clock work?"

Dumbledore shook his head soberly, "I do not believe so, but I thought that you might like to tell him that."

"Harry," said Sirius, turning to him thoughtfully, "it is most interesting that this watch has felt the need to create a new label for Peter. James," Sirius rushed to assure him, "certainly didn't have a label specially created for the eventuality of one of his friends betraying him. That label used to say 'upset,' which was the only label that described the person's emotional situation. James had it put on because he always used to fight with Lily about whether she was upset. After he got the watch, he always won because he could whip it out and say, 'See? Now tell me what's wrong!'" Sirius looked lost in the memories for a moment before shaking his head slightly and going on.

"A wizarding clock uses a magical connection to each person to determine where that person _thinks_ that they are, deep down inside. Your unconscious mind is much more reliable than your conscious mind and thus the clock can tell you that you are late, even though you don't consciously know that. In general, the clock will take the way you are feeling and point to the label most appropriate. For example, if you were in detention, your hand would probably point to 'prison,' because that is the closest to the truth. If it was an unfair detention, it might point to 'upset' rather than 'prison,' because that is a deeper and truer description of what you were feeling.

"Sometimes, however, a person's feelings will be so intense that they will point to whatever is closest and then _warp_ that label until it shows the true representation of their feelings. The only time I ever saw a label change was during Remus' transformations into a werewolf. 'Upset' was the closest to what Remus was feeling at the full moon and thus his hand pointed there, but it didn't even begin to describe what he was going through. As he transformed, his magical energy reached out and seized the label, changing it to 'agony.'" Sirius looked disturbed at the memory.

"So what you're saying," said Harry slowly, "is that Wormtail knows he did the wrong thing and is _regretting_ it?"

"The regret that he feels is all-encompassing," Dumbledore added, looking over his half-moon spectacles gravely. "He hardly has room to think about anything else – his misery consumes him."

"Do… do you think that he might change sides again?" asked Harry doubtfully.

"No," said Sirius, his voice hardening. "He knows that he can never come back. He's not welcome here. After what he's done…"

"Does anyone deserve such a fate, Sirius?" asked Dumbledore solemnly. "Is it _ever_ too late for even the gravest of sinners to attempt to make up for their misdeeds?

"Yes," said Sirius fiercely. "After what he did to James and Lily, to Harry, to Cedric, to me… He can never give me back twelve years of my life; never give back Harry his childhood or his innocence; and he can certainly never bring Lily, James and Cedric back to life."

Dumbledore merely nodded gravely and closed his eyes, looking older than ever.


	25. Trouble

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 25: Trouble**

After their discussion was over, Harry had asked Professor Dumbledore if he could walk Sirius out to the gate. "Of course," the headmaster had replied, "but make sure you are back in time for lunch, Harry. We can't have you missing out on meals or your afternoon classes!"

It felt odd walking through the castle with an enormous black dog padding beside him. Sirius' Animagus form was so large that Harry could rest his hand flat on the dog's shoulder without bending. Sirius' toenails clicked loudly on the stone floor, which made Harry glad that everyone was in class, so he did not have to put up with strange looks.

A loud hiss sounded from in front of them and Harry saw that Mrs. Norris, Filch's foul cat, was standing in the middle of the corridor a bit further ahead. Her back was arched, her ears were laid back and she looked about twice her normal size because all her scrawny hair was standing on end. A low growl emerged from her throat and then she hissed and spat again at the intruder in her castle

Sirius sat back on his haunches looking at her and the big dog's tongue lolled in a lopsided grin for a moment before Harry realised what he was going to do. "No, Snuffles!" he yelled as, with a shuddering bunch of his enormous muscles, the dog leaped towards Mrs. Norris. The scrawny cat streaked off down the corridor with Sirius in pursuit. The funny side of the situation started to dawn on Harry, even as he pelted down the corridor after the two animals yelling, "Get back here, Snuffles!" He kept running towards the low-pitched, chesty sound of Sirius' barks as fast as he could, silently cursing prankster godfathers under his breath.

Harry finally found them in the trophy room, where Mrs. Norris was sitting atop one of the larger trophy cases, calmly washing herself, while his godfather bounced around below, barking energetically. Harry leaned against the door to catch his breath and marvelled at how, despite his deep, throaty barks, Sirius managed to sound like an excited Chihuahua yapping.

It was thus that Professor McGonagall found them about a minute later. "Potter?" she asked, one hand held to her heart in shock. "Is that your dog?"

"Um – yes?" Harry replied rather questioningly, as he shot an alarmed look at the crowd of students that had formed just behind his teacher. The noise of the chase had obviously attracted students from their classes to find out what was going on.

McGonagall peered at the dog for a moment and then took a step closer. "That's not a dog, it's an Animagus," she stated rather slowly. "And there are no big black dogs in the Animagus register. Thus, this is an _unregistered_ Animagus." McGonagall seemed horrified at the mere thought. "Stand back, Potter," she continued grimly, "this is most likely some servant of You-Know-Who."

At this point, Harry began panicking for real and threw himself in front of the dog. "Professor, I can explain. The Headmaster knows he's here and wants it kept a secret." Sirius thumped his tail weakly on the floor, looking apologetically at Harry, who continued earnestly, "Please, Professor, can we go to the Headmaster?"

Professor McGonagall stared at him for a long time before giving one short, sharp nod, her lips impossibly thin, and Harry breathed easier.

***

Half an hour later, Harry and Sirius were retracing their steps through the castle, leaving Dumbledore to make Professor McGonagall a stiff cup of tea in his office. Harry was _not_ impressed.

"What were you _thinking_?" he hissed at the dog as they wound toward the entrance to the castle. "Do you think I _want_ my godfather Kissed by a Dementor? Don't you understand that I need to be able to think that some day I'll get away from the Dursleys? That some day I'll be able to live with someone who loves me? And if you get yourself captured or killed…" Harry made a noise of disgust and continued walking in silence, trembling with the force of his emotions.

Cho Chang shot them a glare from where she sat, under the tree where Ron and Hermione had been sitting before, but Harry hardly saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, or her white fingers angrily tearing a small piece of parchment into tiny pieces. Sirius had nearly got himself revealed to the whole _school_.

A few minutes later, as they rounded the east side of the lake, Harry felt Sirius' wet nose creep into his hand, startling him. Harry looked sternly down at his godfather, who was sitting on his haunches directing enormous puppy-dog eyes at him, and gave in. He knelt beside the big black dog and flung his arms around him, "I'm sorry, Sirius, I was just really worried, you know? Just… just be careful, okay?" The dog nodded gravely and Harry couldn't help grinning. "Do you have any idea how silly it looks to see a dog nodding?"

Padfoot simply gave him a lofty look and trotted on with his head held high. Stifling a laugh, Harry joined him in the long walk to the gates of Hogwarts.

***

"Well, Harry, this is where I have to leave you," said Sirius when he transformed back into human form at the gate. "We can't have you getting off Hogwarts grounds, can we?"

Harry nodded his head sadly and pulled his cloak around him to ward off a sudden chill. "Thanks for coming to see me, Sirius. Even if we can't use Dad's watch to help you win your freedom just yet, I was glad to see you."

"Me too, Harry, me too. And it's definitely a great comfort to know that if I do happen to be captured, I've got a chance!" Sirius looked at Harry piercingly as he continued, "Now you take care of yourself – and that young lady of yours!"

"She's not my…" Harry started hotly, but broke off when he noticed the grin on Sirius' face and realised that he had been successfully baited. "Oh, _you_," he said, punching him on the arm, and then pulled him into a tight bear hug. "I'll miss you," he said quietly.

"_You're on._" Harry started. That didn't sound like Sirius' voice – that had sounded like…

"What did you say?" he asked doubtfully, pulling away slightly and looking up. He shivered, as the cool autumn air seemed to find infinitesimal gaps in his cloak, bringing his skin up in goose pimples. It had sounded like Cedric's voice.

But Sirius' face had frozen in horror and his lips were moving in a silent plea. Then Harry heard his mother's voice screaming, "_Not Harry! Please… have mercy…_" and the chill around them suddenly made sense. Harry looked over his shoulder and saw at least twenty tall, black-robed Dementors gliding towards them.

Sirius had sunk to his knees and was clutching at his head, drawn in to whatever horrible memory had taken him. "_Stand aside, you silly girl_," Voldemort's voice echoed inside Harry's head.

"_Wands out d'you reckon?_" asked Cedric and Harry pulled out his wand, trying to push the memories away and concentrate on something happy. Sirius had fallen to the ground, unconscious. All his happy memories seemed to be too slippery to grasp, he was falling; he was drowning in icy water…

"_Kill the spare_," said Voldemort's high, cold voice and there was a flash of green light. All of a sudden Harry remembered waking in Ginny's arms after a nightmare, one of her hands stroking his shoulder, the other patting his hand soothingly.

"_It's not your fault…_" she whispered softly.

"_Expecto Patronum_!" Harry cried and the silver stag burst out of his wand, charging toward the Dementors and scattering them with great tosses of his silver antlers.

Harry's Patronus did not seem to affect a few of the shorter black-robed figures and he realised why when they began pulling their wands out. Before the first curse could be fired, Harry grabbed Sirius' wrist and activated his Portkey pin, sending them back to Dumbledore's office for the third time that day.

"It's just a bit of a shock, Albus," Professor McGonagall was saying. "Of course, it makes sense, but I've spent thirteen years …"

Professor Dumbledore held up his hand to silence McGonagall as he noticed Harry lying on the carpet behind her chair. Harry heaved himself wearily into a sitting position next to the unconscious Sirius and tried to explain. "They were waiting for us, Professor! Right near the gate – there were more than twenty of them, a whole lot of Dementors and some Death Eaters."

"Minerva, if you could fetch Madam Pomfrey?" Dumbledore requested, then rummaged in his desk drawer for a moment and produced a slab of Honeydukes' chocolate. "Here you go, Harry, this will help," he muttered and handed the bar to Harry. Harry broke off a large piece for himself and started chewing, then sat in McGonagall's vacated chair watching Sirius, trying to work out how he could feed chocolate to an unconscious man.

Dumbledore sat back down at his desk, staring into his Pensieve. Adding a couple of thoughts, he poked the swirling liquid with his wand before saying, "There are two very important questions for which we must find answers. First: how did Voldemort manage to sneak some Dementors away from Azkaban without the Ministry noticing? And second: How on _earth_ did they know that Sirius was here?"


	26. Penseive

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 26: Pensieve**

Sirius had regained consciousness in the hospital wing just before lunch. Unfortunately, Professor Dumbledore stepped in as soon as Harry had seen that his godfather was unharmed. "Now, Harry, you will need to replenish your strength as well, so you'd better be off to lunch. Sirius will make his journey to Professor Lupin's as soon as he is recovered."

So thus it was that Harry had said his goodbyes to his godfather in the hospital wing. After hurrying down to lunch, Harry recounted the events of the day to the others, who listened in breathless silence. Just as he was finishing his story, however, Hermione squealed and burst out, "A Pensieve!" Every eye at the Gryffindor table turned to them and Hermione blushed.

First waiting until everyone else at the table had turned away, Hermione leaned close to the other three and continuing in a low voice. "That's what I was thinking about before! Harry, when you can't remember what happened in your dreams – what if you put them into a Pensieve? Then everyone would be able to see them and analyse them."

Harry felt his heart leap; Dumbledore had asked him to try to remember everything he could from his dreams and he usually didn't do a particularly good job. "It's a good idea, Hermione," he said slowly, as he considered it. "Would it help me remember things that I've already forgotten, though? I forget most of the dream as soon as I wake up."

Hermione's face fell. "I remember reading about them – you can't really get anything out of them that you don't remember. I just thought that if you put it in straight away, it might help… But obviously not."

"What if someone else did it?" asked Ginny in a carefully neutral voice and Harry's hopes soared again.

Hermione looked blank. "I think that you can take someone else's memories out, as long as they trust you, but you couldn't get anything more out than what they could do by themselves." Comprehension dawned slowly on her face. "Oh! You mean that you could pull out what he's currently experiencing, while he's in the middle of the dream?"

Ginny nodded and Hermione looked like she was about to burst with excitement. "You know, I think that just might work!"

***

"Back again, Harry?" asked Dumbledore softly as he swung the door of his office open for Harry and his three friends. They were all panting madly, as they had run all the way from the Great Hall to put their idea to Dumbledore before their next class.

"Professor," panted Harry, "Hermione… Pensieve… dreams… Voldemort…"

"Perhaps you'd better sit down," said Dumbledore as he looked over the top of his half-moon spectacles at the group. "I'm sure that no one will mind if you are slightly late to class. Now, Hermione, from the beginning…"

Hermione's hand was pressed to a stitch at her side as she spoke, but she didn't pause at all in her explanation of their idea. Dumbledore was watching her with mild amusement as she concluded. "I had quite thought your teachers must have been exaggerating, though not about your extraordinary mind, about your astonishing ability to speak without drawing breath. I must admit to finding myself to be mistaken!" Hermione flushed pink, although Harry found it hard to tell whether it was with pleasure or embarrassment.

"Your idea has a great deal of merit," Dumbledore continued seriously. "I will arrange for a Pensieve to be purchased and brought into your possession in the next few days. Now, perhaps you had better go and join your classes. This is, after all," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his glasses, "a school, not the underground resistance against Voldemort!"

***

The following afternoon, when Harry came to dump his book bag in his room after classes, he noticed a package sitting on the bed, wrapped in plain brown paper. "Is that…" asked Ginny, who had just come in the door.

"A Pensieve!" breathed Harry. "Come on! Let's go get Ron and Hermione."

Ron and Hermione were nearly as excited as Harry. Hermione raced up to her room and returned with the enormous tome where she had found the information on the Promise Ring: _Mystical Magical Artefacts_.

"It says here," she said, running her finger down the page, "that you just need to concentrate really hard on the memory and touch your wand to your temple. Concentrate on how sticky that memory is and how it should stick to your wand and then draw it away. Go on, try it!"

"So what shall I put in?" Harry asked.

"I've been thinking," started Ginny, but was cut off by Ron.

"Don't hurt yourself!" he cried in mock amazement and Ginny glared at him.

"This is serious!" she hissed irritably and then turned back to Harry. "You told us that Professor Dumbledore thinks someone must have told Voldemort that Sirius was here the other day. You were with Sirius the whole time, if you put your memories of that in, we might be able to review it and see if anyone is looking suspicious?" She said all this slightly hesitantly and Harry was reminded that she hadn't really been included in his circle of friends for very long.

"Yeah," he said, a bit more firmly that was really necessary, "that's a good idea. Shouldn't you do it, though, Ginny? It's you that's going to have to do it while I'm dreaming."

Ginny nodded in agreement and Hermione flipped forward three pages. "According to this, Ginny, you've got to use Harry's wand." Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Now," continued Hermione, "concentrate on the memories you want to show us, Harry. Ginny, you need to do what I said about imagining his thoughts as something very sticky that should stick to the wand. Touch it to his temple… that's it."

Squeezing his eyes shut and concentrating hard on the time he had spent with Sirius, Harry jumped slightly when he felt the wand tip gently touch his temple. As it was pulled away, he opened his eyes to watch as a silvery strand of something followed his wand. Harry felt a quite unpleasant sensation as the memory pulled away, as though a part of him was being dragged out through his skin. He could feel his own memory of the events fading slightly as the pearly strand lengthened, stretched out and then broke free of his forehead. Ginny deftly dropped the memory into the stone basin, where it lay glowing softly.

Involuntarily, Harry reached out as though to touch the shining liquid, but recoiled when a shadowy image of a Dementor crossed the surface of the memory. "Let's go," he said, and dipped his finger into the liquid, not waiting for their reactions.

As he fell forwards into the Pensieve, the similarity of the feeling to a Portkey made him panic for a moment, but soon enough he was in Dumbledore's familiar office. Harry's eyes widened at the sight of himself rushing forward to hug Sirius. He gazed at the memory of himself, noticing vaguely that he had never realised how messy his hair really looked from behind. Of course he knew that it stuck up all over the place at the top, but he'd never really seen the back of his own head and… surely he didn't _sound_ like that!

"Woah!" cried Ron from behind him. "You're there – and you're there! You… Harry, which one are you?"

Harry was rather crestfallen, although Ginny sounded rather amused at her brother's confusion. Obviously he did look and sound like that, if Ron couldn't tell the difference. "I'm me," he said, then realising that the statement may not have helped Ron very much, pointed to the other Harry, who was now stepping back from Sirius. "He's just a memory. We can't affect anything, so if I'm talking to someone from the memory, then it's probably not me!"

Ron's eyes were wide as he looked from one Harry to the other. "This is going to take some getting used to," he said in an awed voice.

"Honestly, Ron," tutted Hermione. "It's just a memory! You wouldn't get the proper sense of it if that Harry wasn't here," she said, indicating the Harry from the memory, who was now sitting down, grinning at the dumbstruck Sirius. As they settled down in the spare armchairs in Dumbledore's office to watch, Harry could see that this was going to give him a headache in the near future.

Many people had seen the large black dog trotting with Harry that day, but none seemed to recognise him for what he was until they reached the lake. Harry's attention was torn away from his fascinated observation of how his double trembled with rage at Sirius' reckless behaviour when he heard a sudden exclamation from behind him.

"What's that?" asked Hermione sharply, pointing at Cho Chang, who was sitting under the tree that Harry, Ron and Hermione had sat under earlier that same day. The girl's face was tear streaked but Hermione wasn't pointing to her face. Hermione pointed to her fingers as they restlessly tore up a tiny bit of parchment. Moving over to Cho's side, Harry looked a little more closely at the piece of parchment and saw that it was written in Dumbledore's bright blue ink. Harry's heart sank. It was the letter he had received from Dumbledore, to let him know that Sirius was awaiting him in Dumbledore's office.

"Hermione, how do I get out of this thing?" he called desperately, suddenly feeling like he didn't have enough air to breathe.

"Just _want_ to be out, Harry," she replied, but Harry was already rising out of the Pensieve. In a moment he was sitting on his bed again, breathing heavily. Cho Chang had known that Harry's godfather was in the castle. She may not have understood the significance of the black dog, but the information she had was enough for Voldemort to have guessed that Sirius would be leaving soon.

"It can't have been her!" cried Ginny, suddenly reappearing beside him with the others.

"You're right," said Harry in the most confident voice he could manage. "It just can't. Maybe someone else read the note first. If it was just lying there…" Harry let it trail off.

"If someone else found it and used the information, Harry, do you think they would have left it there?" asked Ron scornfully. "It _must_ have been her!"

"Harry," said Hermione, sounding very worried and as though it had only just occurred to her, "do you remember when I told you about the stages of grief? I said that the bargaining phase didn't usually last very long in the Muggle world, because no one has the power to take away a loss like hers. With You-Know-Who back…" Hermione let it trail off, but continued looking seriously at Harry.

"She wouldn't make a deal with Voldemort!" scoffed Harry. "The whole reason she thinks it was me is because she doesn't think Voldemort's back!"

"She might not know it was him," said Hermione grimly. "Ginny didn't know it was him in second year."

Harry was still sceptical. Cho Chang? Working for Voldemort? Ginny gasped and held one hand over her mouth. "She's right!" she whispered. "Remember what Dumbledore said at the beginning of term? 'Voldemort has always exploited and destroyed those who thought themselves neutral.' What if she doesn't know that it's Voldemort and all she knows is that she'll get Cedric back?"

"Voldemort said he had a new spy," said Harry, feeling his heart sink as a memory of his dream suddenly made the whole thing seem more plausible. "The night after the attack on Diagon Alley, I remember he said that he had been given information by a 'brilliant new spy'. What if it's _Cho_? You're right, she was right there in Diagon Alley beforehand, the perfect place."

Looking at the grim faces around him, Harry felt the last bit of doubt melt away. Cho _had_ to be passing information to Voldemort, however unwittingly. He groaned and buried his face in his hands. Hadn't she suffered enough? First she lost Cedric and now Voldemort was using her to betray others at Hogwarts! It was all his…

"It's not your fault!" came the familiar voice of Ginny. Harry had to smile in spite of himself. Ginny, it seemed, always knew when he was starting to blame himself.

"So what do we do?" he asked finally. "I mean, do we tell Dumbledore?"

"What can we say?" asked Ginny. She put on an official voice, "'Excuse me, Professor Dumbledore, but we think that someone might be manipulating Cho Chang into spying for Voldemort. Proof? Oh, we don't have any of that, it just seems obvious from one of Harry's memories!' What's he going to say, Harry? And even more importantly, what could he do about it? Expel her? Put her into solitary confinement? He won't be able to _do_ anything. And what if we're wrong? I mean, it doesn't seem very likely, but there might be another explanation. Then we'd just be making things even worse for poor Cho."

Harry sighed, his heart sinking. "You're right, of course. There's nothing he could do."

"Malfoy," said Ron, snapping his fingers as a thought occurred to him. "He went after her after she'd slapped you, Harry. Do you think that he's been talking to her? Can't think what that'd do though, no one can stand him."

"I'm sure he could be quite charming if he put his mind to it," said Hermione, then immediately went red. "Oh stop it," she shot at Ron, who was looking revolted. Harry also had to try hard to suppress his incredulous reaction to the application of the word 'charming' to Malfoy.

"I know that he's a complete idiot," she went on, "all I'm saying is that he's probably been trained to manipulate people from the cradle. His father gets his way by bullying, threatening, bribing, or manipulating everyone he meets. Fudge thinks that Malfoy's father is wonderful and I'm sure that's not anything to do with his fair-minded approach to things!"

Harry had to admit that she had a point but Ron muttered, "Ferret-face?" still sounding as though he was about to be sick.

"So do you think that Malfoy's her contact?" asked Ginny. "She passes the information on to Malfoy, who passes it on to his father, who passes it on to Voldemort?"

"Could be," sighed Hermione, "but we certainly don't have anything to prove that. We don't want to do anything about Cho, but can we do anything to stop Malfoy from getting in contact with her?"

"Malfoy," said Harry coldly, "is going to rue the day that he was born." He stood up abruptly, the icy knot of misery, shame and pity that had settled into his stomach beginning to burn. "Let's go talk to Fred and George."


	27. Gryffindor vs Slytherin

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   
The Promise Ring - by The White Lily **Chapter 27: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin**

It was with great regret that Harry had to eventually put a stop to the plans to make Malfoy's life a misery. The twins had been teeming with fantastic ideas ranging from itching powder in all his laundry to one of their new Gryffindor Midas sweets. These turned everything the consumer's bare skin touched, including their clothes, to either red or gold. The first Quidditch game of the season was on the second Saturday in November, just a month away. Since it was against Slytherin, Harry knew that if any pranks were traced back to them before the game, the consequences would be dire.

"We're going to slaughter them," said Harry firmly. "That can mark the beginning of this whole campaign. In the meantime, I'll write to Padfoot and Moony for some more ideas and –"

"WHAT?" shrieked Fred, cutting off Harry's speech. Harry looked from one white face to the other in confusion.

"You're going to write to who?" clarified George in a trembling voice and Harry grinned as he realised the source of the twins' consternation.

"Of course!" grinned Ron. "Hang on, I'll be _right_ back." Ron raced off and returned holding Colin Creevey's camera. He knelt down in front of a large, empty armchair, adjusting the focus for a moment before nodding to Harry. "Okay, shoot! This moment is going to go down in history!"

The twins sat down in the chair together, looking slightly scared and bemused by the broad grins all around them. "Give it to us straight, Harry," advised Fred in mock solemnity. "How bad is it? Are we going to die?"

"Would you gentlemen," replied Harry, smiling so widely that his cheeks hurt, "be surprised to learn that we have identified all four authors of the infamous Marauder's Map?"

"Go on," said George. The tenseness in the twins' faces was not feigned this time.

"Once upon a time," began Harry, "there were four friends who were even bigger pranksters than you two."

"Tosh," said Fred, but quietened quickly when George stepped on his foot.

"One of them was a werewolf …"

"Moony…" breathed George reverently.

"… named," Harry continued, nodding at George, "Remus Lupin." Colin's camera clicked, taking in their stunned expressions. The twins sat there for a long moment, their expressions frozen almost as though the flash of the camera had Petrified them, before Fred opened his mouth and tried to say something, then closed it again, shaking his head in confusion.

"You're telling us," Fred spluttered finally, "that Mr. Moony came back to teach at this school?" At Harry's nod, both twins collapsed in helpless laughter. Colin's camera clicked again as Ron recorded another moment for the history books. "No – wonder – we couldn't – get away with – anything – in his class!" gasped Fred.

When the twins had finally regained their composure, Harry continued his tale. "Moony's three best friends would have done anything to help him during his transformations into the wolf, which were terrifying, lonely, and extremely painful. They helped him the only way they could: they become illegal Animagi, so that they could accompany him on the night of the full moon. One became a rat, one a large black dog, and one a stag."

Harry fell silent as Fred and George mulled over what he said. "That makes sense," said George finally. "Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. So who were they?"

"Well," said Harry cautiously, "Prongs was my father." Click! Colin's camera took in the twins' stunned expression again. They seemed to be contemplating open worship of Harry, but he cut them off as they made to get down on their knees in front of him. "Get up! Don't you want to know about the other two?" The twins immediately got up and sat back down on their chair, batting their eyelids longingly at Harry. "I'll have to swear you to secrecy," Harry cautioned, "because someone's life may depend on this."

The twins looked at each other and nodded, then leaned in close to Harry. "Of course!" Fred spoke for them both, his low voice tight with excitement. "Not a word."

"Padfoot is my godfather, Sirius Black." The twins' faces fell.

"Gee, I'm sorry, Harry," said George, looking horror-stricken.

"Don't be," said Harry grimly. "At least not about that. He's innocent. He was framed by Peter Pettigrew, better known as Wormtail, Scabbers, or the guy who helped bring back Voldemort last year." The twins, if possible, went even whiter than before.

"Are you telling us that Ron's rat brought back You-Know-Who?"

"Well, don't put it like that!" huffed Ron. "I didn't know who it was, did I? And he was Percy's rat first! Imagine how it feels to find out that your pet was evil!" Harry raised his eyebrows at the twins as Ron stalked off to return Colin's camera. Scabbers was obviously still a bit of a sore point for Ron.

Hermione started as she looked at her wristwatch. "Oooh!" she cried in shock. "We've wasted so much time this afternoon! Come on, Harry, we've got to get working or we'll never pass the O.W.Ls!

"So there you have it," said Harry to the twins, as he stood up to follow Hermione. "If you like, I'll send anything you'd like to say to Padfoot and Moony along with my letter."

Fred and George were busy drafting their letter well before Harry had even made it to his room to collect his books.

***

As Harry walked onto the pitch, leading his team, he found it hard not to panic. His pre-match pep talk had gone well. All that was left was the game – oh, and shaking hands with Malfoy. Malfoy had been made captain of the Slytherin team, since he was the only member of the team with prior experience. Slytherin's "bigger is better" policy had meant that all the other members of the team had been sixth or seventh years. Since no Quidditch cup had been played the previous year, all the first string players had left, leaving Malfoy with a full team of reserves and completely new players. Colin Creevey had spied on their practise sessions a few times, and the reports had been very positive; the new Slytherin team was obviously extremely inexperienced. Harry couldn't help but think that this game was going to be a pushover. Nonetheless, Harry put all his effort into glaring across the pitch at his rival, hardly listening to Madam Hooch's pre-match warnings.

When he finally stepped forward to shake hands, Cho's tear streaked face was foremost in Harry's mind. He had no reservations about engaging in the traditional attempt by each captain to crush the other's hand. As they shook hands, Malfoy sneered right back at him without giving away any sign of weakness. Harry's hand ached, but he had to suppress a small smile when he stepped back and saw the way Malfoy surreptitiously flexed his fingers, as though trying to get rid of a writer's cramp.

Finally, they were up in the air. Harry zoomed all around the pitch, briefly checking on each of the players. The Gryffindor game plan had been rather simple: get out there, do your job, do it well. Harry couldn't afford to expend his concentration on watching his teammates and organising their plays. He needed to spend his time searching for the Golden Snitch, which would end the game and give them one hundred and fifty points. The Chasers had spent long hours drilling their techniques against Ron; they didn't need Harry's supervision. Ron himself, as Keeper, needed no overall game plan; he simply needed to respond to the other team's Chasers. Fred and George had played Bludger Tennis, as Harry had dubbed their game, until they could beat in their sleep; Harry could do nothing to help them. Each position in the team had been trained to be an independent unit, needing no input from their team captain, leaving him free to search for the Snitch.

Harry soared up higher, as high as he could go. Malfoy was marking him closely, as usual, but Harry barely noticed the opposing Seeker as he cast about intently for the Snitch. He indistinctly heard Lee Jordan's commentary. "What a wonderful day for Quidditch! And it's Gryffindor as the favourites today, due to Slytherin's almost all new line-up. Harry Potter, Gryffindor's Seeker, has a far superior broom to his opposite number Draco Malfoy, the only experienced Slytherin player. The Firebolt, as we all know, has unsurpassed acceleration and –"

"Jordan!" cried Professor McGonagall, who kept a close eye on the commentator. "You're not going to start that again are you? I forbid you to even mention that broom again! Commentate the game!"

"Sorry, Professor. The Quaffle is released … and … Gryffindor's Katie Bell in possession, racing towards the goal hoops at top speed, passes to Alicia Spinnet. Spinnet shoots, no! Feints left, bearing down on centre hoop, Slytherin's Keeper way out of position now. Spinnet ducks a bludger, she shoots; SHE SCORES! Gryffindor leads by ten points to zero!"

Harry returned his attention to searching for the Snitch. Sparing a quick glance behind him, he noticed that Malfoy seemed to be finding it hard to keep up with him. Harry smirked and decided to have a little fun with him. At the Quidditch World Cup the previous year he had seen Bulgaria's Seeker, Viktor Krum, perform the Wronski Feint. He decided that now was the perfect time to try it out.

Suddenly looking down and pretending to see the Snitch, Harry dove straight towards the ground. Several seconds later, he heard Malfoy swearing as the Slytherin pulled his broom into a dive right behind him. Harry kept his speed under wraps, allowing Malfoy to almost catch up to him, but continued to dive until he could see the individual blades of grass on the pitch beneath him. He wrenched his broom out of the dive just above the ground and spiralled lazily back upwards, searching for the Snitch all the while.

As he looked back down at Malfoy, who had only just avoided a collision with the ground, Harry caught a snatch of Lee's commentary and couldn't suppress a smile. "What a feint from Potter! Slytherin Seeker Draco Malfoy almost plastered himself onto the pitch there, not that anyone would miss him."

"JORDAN!" cried Professor McGonagall above boos from the Slytherins and cheers from the Gryffindors. "You are here to commentate the game, not make personal remarks about the players!"

"Sorry, Professor," said Lee. "Gryffindor has scored again while we were distracted by that brilliant feint by Potter, bringing the score to thirty-zero to Gryffindor. Excellent teamwork shown by the Gryffindor team, who carried on the game despite the commotion from the two Seekers. Slytherin Chaser Bennet in possession now, passes to Nott, back to Bennet, bearing down on Keeper Ron Weasley now, Johnson of Gryffindor alongside him, crowding him off the pitch. Bennet passes to Bulstrode – INTERCEPTED BY KATIE BELL OF GRYFFINDOR! This new Slytherin team really is no match for the seasoned warriors in the Gryffindor team."

"JORDAN!" warned McGonagall.

"It's the truth, Professor," replied Lee unrepentantly. Malfoy glared at Harry from far below, as though it was his fault that Gryffindor was the better team, and called to Madam Hooch for time out.

Harry made use of the time to check on each of his teammates, keeping a watchful eye out for the Snitch as he did so. When the Slytherin team sped up to take their positions again, Malfoy resumed his practise of marking Harry as closely as he could and attempting to distract him by insulting him. Harry smiled inwardly. Given the current forms of the two teams, Malfoy would have to catch the Snitch if he was to make up for his team's inexperience. Harry certainly didn't intend to let Malfoy do that, no matter what he said about Harry's mother.

What Slytherin lacked in skill they made up for in brutality. Lee Jordan's commentary blistered the air, while Harry just fumed and let Madam Hooch's outraged diatribe wash over him as two Slytherin Beaters crashed into Ron simultaneously. However, the iron discipline of the Gryffindor team held together. Harry had drilled it into them: whatever happens, however many fouls, whoever is injured, _do not retaliate_.

Harry was quite pleased with the results. Despite the fact that Fred and George were looking murderously at every green thing in sight and that Ron was swaying queasily on his broom, Slytherin had not received a single penalty shot. Gryffindor had put away four out of the five penalties they had been awarded in response to Slytherin's attempts to disable their Keeper. The score was seventy-zero, to Gryffindor.

Malfoy called for time out three more times over the following five minutes, as the score steadily increased to one hundred and twenty-zero to Gryffindor. When Gryffindor scored its thirteenth goal, Malfoy called to Madam Hooch again, but she shook her head. "No more!" she yelled back to Malfoy. "Just get on with the game!"

Harry grinned as Malfoy cursed very creatively. "My, what language, Malfoy!" he cried gaily, as he casually looped the loop. "Don't let Madam Hooch hear you! I'm having tremendous fun up here. Aren't you?"

Malfoy simply scowled at him and flew off to instruct his team members while the game was still in motion. Harry couldn't help but laugh out loud. They were _humiliating_ Slytherin. Then he saw it. The Snitch.

It was hovering just above the ground in the centre of the field. Harry checked briefly on Malfoy, who didn't seem to have even seen the Snitch since he was distracted by his teammates.

Harry wheeled the Firebolt around and dove, gathering speed as he shot straight towards the ground. Harry couldn't feel Malfoy anywhere near him, but he urged his broom to top speed nonetheless. A Bludger appeared, nearly clipping his left ear, but he dodged quickly and moved on. The Snitch, perhaps sensing pursuit, began to move feebly towards the Slytherin end but Harry leaned closer to his broom handle. Without slowing his descent, he brought the broom into a wide spiral so that he would intercept the tiny golden ball head on.

The Snitch never even had a chance. It flew right into Harry's waiting hand. Harry's heart leaped as his hand closed over the small struggling ball, its wings beating uselessly against his hand. "GRYFFINDOR WINS, TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY POINTS TO ZERO!" cried Lee Jordan ecstatically.

The thing that really clinched the victory in Harry's mind, though, was what he saw when he shot up to congratulate the rest of his team on a game well played. The green pinprick that he knew was Malfoy was only just beginning to move down from his position high above the game, having never even realised that Harry had seen the Snitch until the game was finished. Too preoccupied with directing his team, Malfoy had made the worst mistake a Seeker could ever make: he had not kept his mind on searching for the Snitch.

***

The celebrations lasted well into the night. Even Hermione had been coaxed away from her books for half an hour to have one of the Butterbeers Fred and George had appropriated from Hogsmeade. For the rest of the evening, she sat in a chair to the edge of the room, concentrating hard on her Transfiguration homework, while Ron bobbed around her like a cuckoo clock, attempting to distract her.

Harry knew that he should probably be studying over with Hermione, but when he made an attempt to sit with her early in the evening, she simply looked at him as if he'd gone mad. "Go on, Harry," she said. "This is your party. Besides, this would usually be Quidditch practise time, so I've got nothing on the timetable for you!"

All things considered, it was very late when Harry and Ginny finally went to bed. Exhausted by the exhilarating game and the wild aftermath, Harry fell immediately into a deep sleep.

***

"I can tell you nothing, my Lord," said the Death Eater smoothly, his voice betraying no hint of the fear he must have been feeling. His blank mask flickered in the light of the large fire lit at the centre of the tree-lined clearing. "Dumbledore has sealed up the student records in a heavily warded safe. Any communication with parents must go through him. I cannot even access the student records to identify which of the students are Muggle-born, let alone retrieve their addresses. I apologise, my Lord, I have failed you."

Voldemort merely nodded and crossed to the other side of the circle, although Harry could feel his anger seething. "Malfoy! You are a school governor! Why have you allowed this to take place?"

Malfoy dropped to his knees, obviously sensing the Dark Lord's rage despite his mild tone. "I could not help it, my Lord. Dumbledore wrestled the board of governors out of my control two years ago when I tried to help you return through the diary. I have no real power there anymore, my Lord."

"Then what use are you to me?" breathed Voldemort softly. "Does_ no one _have any information for me? Are you so _completely_ useless?" He swung and cursed at random. "_Crucio_. _Crucio_. _Crucio_." Harry's scar burst with a blinding pain that receded quickly to a dull itch as the Death Eaters' screams rent the clearing. Ginny was awake. Good.

When Voldemort finally lowered his wand a short, stout Death Eater stepped forward. "I have something, my Lord."

"Go on," said the Dark Lord dubiously.

"I was called to a Muggle house over a year ago to reverse some accidental magic produced by a Mudblood by the name of Dennis Creevey, master. No Memory Charms were necessary, as the boy was due to attend Hogwarts the following year and already had an elder brother attending Hogwarts. The two boys chattered incessantly as I worked and so I was told at great length that the elder had co-founded something known as the Harry Potter Fan Club. My Lord, from my assessment of the boys, they were more like stalkers than anything else and most likely extremely irritating, which is why I did not bring it up at first. However, I will be able to track down their address within a couple of days. They are Mudbloods, at least one is Gryffindor, and Potter must know them. If he despises them, my Lord, perhaps that is all the better to make him feel guilty."

"You have done well, Avery," said Voldemort, beginning to laugh. Harry felt the Dark Lord's anger dissipating and the link that had drawn him weakening. "Very well indeed. If you continue in this manner, you may well find yourself rising in the ranks very quickly." Harry was moving away, as though caught up by a giant hand in the sky. He was rising into the night sky; he could barely hear anything anymore. "Contact me when you have the address," was the last thing he heard before he swam into consciousness.


	28. A Secret Kept

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, not I. I hope I won't embarrass her too much by what I do with them. : )   
The Promise Ring - by The White Lily **Chapter 28: A Secret Kept**

Ginny was kneeling over him holding her wand to his temple as Harry slowly swam into consciousness. He sat up immediately, feeling the last memory of his dream fall away from his mind as Ginny pulled it free. It was gone. He remembered absolutely nothing. "Did you get it all, Ginny?" he asked nervously. "I can't remember anything! What if it hasn't worked?"

"It's all right," Ginny soothed, picking up the Pensieve carefully and walking towards the door. "I'm pretty sure I've got it all. Let's take it to Dumbledore straight away, in case there's anything urgent."

Harry grabbed the Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk and swirled it over the two of them. Ginny held the Pensieve steady as they walked along at a stately pace, not wanting to spill a drop of the precious memory.

"Canary Cream," muttered Harry to the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office and it sprang aside. Harry had just raised his fist to knock when he heard Dumbledore's soft voice filtering through the door. "You are blinded by your longing for peace, Cornelius." Ginny reached out and squeezed his arm in a wordless confirmation of Harry's own thoughts; they dared not interrupt what was obviously an important meeting. Harry felt a brief pang of guilt as he pressed closer to the door to listen.

"Peace is an admirable image for the Ministry to project in peaceful times. But now we are at war and the public _must_ be warned! You talk of the dark times when Voldemort was an acknowledged factor in the world, but I remember the even darker times when no one knew that he was a threat. Do you remember, Cornelius? Do you remember the whole families that simply vanished? The witches and wizards who went out for a short walk and _never came home_? Keeping the world ignorant does not keep it safe!"

"There is no hard evidence that You-Know-Who has returned!"

Harry could feel the sense of Dumbledore's overwhelming presence through the door as the headmaster's anger crashed like a wave over the Minister for Magic. "A group of Death Eaters and Dementors attacked one of my students and a trusted friend three days ago!"

"The leader of the Dementors says that none of them have left Azkaban Island for well over a year!"

"You surely could not expect an honest answer from their leader? _The Dementors are on Voldemort's side_!"

There was a strained silence that seemingly stretched forever. Finally, Harry heard the sound of a chair scraping, as though someone had stood up. "Well, Albus," said Fudge, in a voice that would have been more suited to the primary school playground, "when you are the Minister for Magic you can do as you see fit. But seeing as _I_ currently hold that position, my decision stands. You will cease yammering about removing the Dementors from Azkaban and you will cease enticing members of my own government to work against me. Any member of my government who involves himself in this 'Order of the Phoenix' nonsense that Weasley has brought to my attention will be sacked immediately. Good day. Come, Weasley."

Harry and Ginny hurriedly pressed back against the wall, attempting to make themselves as small as possible, as the door was wrenched open.

Fudge strode out, cramming his bowler hat viciously onto his head, his pinstriped cloak fluttering behind him. Percy Weasley shot a glare back at Dumbledore and followed swiftly on Fudge's heels, leaving the door wide open. "Completely unreasonable!" they heard Percy muttering under his breath. "No respect for the Minister! First my father, now Dumbledore! They've gone mad!" Harry could feel Ginny trembling with outrage at her brother's betrayal of his family.

Fudge and Percy's footsteps slowly receded as they swept down the hall. When Harry and Ginny crept into the room and tossed off the Invisibility Cloak, Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, wearily writing a letter in bright blue ink. "Harry, Ginny," said Dumbledore softly. "What brings you here?"

"I had a dream, sir, although I can't remember anything about it," replied Harry. "Ginny thinks she managed to get it all, but since we came straight here, we haven't had a look."

"Very good," said Dumbledore, taking the Pensive carefully from Ginny and setting it on his desk. "Perhaps the two of you would like to explore the dream with me?"

Harry and Ginny both agreed eagerly. Somehow the idea of waiting while Dumbledore looked at Harry's dream, when neither of them knew what it was about, seemed like torture. They dipped their fingers into the Pensieve simultaneously, falling downwards into the memory.

***

Colin and his brother waylaid Harry on his way to breakfast the next morning.

"Gosh, this is exiting, Harry!" cried Colin, his brother nodding energetically beside him. "You-Know-Who after _us_! Mum and Dad are arriving today so that they can get the Fidelius Charm put on them. Didn't your parents have that, Harry? And wasn't Sirius Black their Secret Keeper? We don't know who's going to be Mum and Dad's Secret Keeper, because all the teachers are already Secret Keeping for someone. Anyway, we're off down to the entrance hall to wait for Mum and Dad. See you later, Harry!"

"Bye, Harry," echoed Dennis and the two brothers rushed off.

Harry had to prevent himself from screaming as he walked to breakfast. Did they have _no_ idea that this was serious? That their parents could _die_?

"It's not your fault!" said Ginny. Harry looked at her in puzzlement. "Don't give me that," she said. "I know you were blaming yourself that Voldemort's after Mr. and Mrs. Creevey. _It's not your fault_."

"You're starting to get a bit repetitive there, Ginny," he grinned at her.

"Yeah, well I live in hope that some day you might believe me!"

At breakfast, Harry was shocked to see Professor Lupin sitting at the staff table, next to Professor Dumbledore. The bags under Lupin's eyes were quite pronounced, and Harry was reminded that the full moon had been just a few nights before. Giving him a cheery wave, Harry continued with his breakfast. He was just finishing up when a voice from behind him made him look up.

"Hello, everyone!" said Lupin cheerfully, before turning to Harry. "I was wondering if I might speak with you, Harry? I'm only here for a few hours, so I'm afraid I'm on rather a tight schedule. Would you be able to walk with me to the headmaster's office?"

"Of course, Professor Lupin," said Harry. "I'll meet you in the library, Hermione." Harry waved goodbye to his friends and pushed back from the table, cramming the last bit of his toast into his mouth.

"Remus is fine, Harry, I'm not your professor anymore!"

Harry swallowed quickly. "Thanks, P- Remus. How are you? And how's Sirius?"

"I'm not so bad, thank you. I've been finding work here and there lately, so I'm doing quite well. Sirius is just fine, although he doesn't recover as well as he used to from Dementors. I believe he's living almost entirely off chocolate at the moment."

Remus' wry smile faded slightly. "Now, I wanted to ask you, Harry, Sirius told me that you have found your father's watch. May I…" Remus trailed off, looking a little lost for words. Harry unclipped the watch from the pocket of his robes and handed it to his father's old friend.

Remus stared for a long moment at the moulded image of the stag, wolf, dog, and rat, before flipping the watch open. One long finger reached out to stroke the face of the watch. "Peter," he whispered in a hoarse voice. Harry was shocked to see a single tear slip from Remus' left eye, leaving a glistening trail where it traced down the older man's face.

Shaking his head roughly to dispel the thoughts of his old school friend, Remus cleared his throat and turned to Harry. "I'm not sure if you knew, but James was very close to his father. Mr. Potter asked James to design a watch for himself and then commissioned it to be made for a graduation present." Remus flipped the front of the watch closed and handed it back, a bitter smile on his face.

"The four of us stayed with Mr. and Mrs. Potter for a few weeks straight after graduation. They were the best team of Artimages – spell-crafters – the world has ever known. They told us at dinner one night that they were very close to finding what they had been researching all their lives: a cure for the madness induced by prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. Peter must have tipped off Voldemort because just a couple of days after we left, Voldemort attacked with an overwhelming force while James' parents were asleep in bed. It was obviously not a random attack because the office where they kept all their paperwork was ransacked and burned. The Ministry found four dead Death Eaters along with your grandparents' bodies the next day, but that was small consolation to James. He never went anywhere without this watch from then on."

Harry looked down at the ground. As much as he longed to know everything about his parents' lives, he almost wished that he hadn't heard that story. He had to go and study for Charms with Hermione next and all he could think about was _Voldemort_. Harry started to tremble slightly. Voldemort had ruined so many lives! He was doubly responsible for Neville's parents, who were locked up in St Mungo's, because he had prevented the cure from being developed!

The Creevey brothers didn't seem to be taking the threat of Voldemort at all seriously. What if their parents were killed? Or worse, what if they ended up like Neville's parents? How much worse would it be for Muggles to experience the Cruciatus Curse? They knew nothing about magic, or the harm it could cause!

Harry's skin tingled with suppressed anger and fear as he walked on in silence, hardly registering the other students rushing through the corridor towards their next classes, or the sound of Remus' soft footfalls beside him. _Voldemort_.

"Professor Lupin?" Harry and Remus both started and turned at the loud voice from behind them. "We've heard so much about you from our son, and when we heard we had to choose a wizard we trusted, we simply knew we had to choose you. Colin tells us that you were the best teacher he's ever had and that he learned a terrific amount from you." This was all said very fast by a short man dressed in Muggle clothing, his plump wife hanging onto his arm and nodding furiously.

Remus extended his hand to shake with the man. "Mr. Creevey?" he asked, looking politely puzzled.

Mr. Creevey raced on, "Yes, please call me Mervin though, and this is Miranda. You're going to be protecting us, so we should be on a first name basis, don't you think?"

After taking a moment to catch up with the Muggle's fast-paced speech, he said faintly, "Remus. Pleased to meet you, Mervin, Miranda. I must admit to being slightly confused though. I'm not entirely sure what you're talking about."

"Professor Dumbledore told us about how you agreed to be our Secret Keeper," the middle-aged Muggle continued loudly. "Thank you so much, you're the only adult wizard we really feel we know and like through our boys, so I don't know who we'd have picked if you had said no."

Mr. Creevey's eyes shone with blinding sincerity; he did not seem to be aware of the stunned expression on Remus' face. That he had agreed to be the Creeveys' Secret Keeper was obviously news to Remus. Harry nudged him on the arm and motioned to the rest of the hall where a small crowd of students was milling. "Get them out of here," he hissed, "or _everyone_ will know you're the Secret Keeper!"

Remus nodded to Harry and turned to the Creeveys. "Shall we discuss this in the headmaster's office? Right this way." The three hurried away, and Harry watched them all the way down the corridor.

Harry had just turned to go to the library when someone slammed into him, knocking him down and scattering the contents of his bag all over the floor. His inkbottle bounced once, twice, then on the third bounce it shattered, drenching all his books with jet-black ink. "Hey!" he called after the retreating back of Cho Chang. "What was that for?"

The girl simply ignored him and walked on, leaving a very frustrated Harry to collect his ink-splattered belongings. It was only when he related the entire affair to the others that he realised that Cho now knew who the Creeveys' Secret Keeper was.


	29. Blinded by the Light

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 29: Blinded by the Light**

Harry's hope that they had been wrong about Cho grew with each day as almost four weeks passed and Remus and the Creevey family remaining safe. Each morning over breakfast, Dumbledore would receive a letter from a beautiful sooty owl, read it carefully, and then nod reassuringly to Harry.

For the first few nights, he had been barely able to close his eyes to go to sleep at night, terrified that he would be witness to Remus' capture or the Creeveys' deaths. The tension that had at first wound Harry up so tightly that he could barely breathe was beginning to fade away, to be replaced with another worry that, if it was not quite so life threatening, was at least closer to home.

Mr. Weasley, along with fifty other Ministry employees of various ranks, had been dismissed for supporting Dumbledore's claim that Voldemort had returned.

Since Mr. Weasley was no longer earning anything and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley did not want to accept the money Dumbledore offered them unless it was absolutely necessary, the Weasley family had fallen into deep financial difficulties. All the Weasleys' faces were constantly showing the strain as they worried about their family situation.

Percy had taken the Ministry's side and had completely split from his family, moving to a flat in Diagon Alley in an attempt to escape his mother's wrath. The attempt had not been entirely successful. It had taken Mr. Weasley three weeks to calm his wife down to a state where she sent Percy only one Howler per day.

Malfoy's jibes about the Weasley family's financial difficulties became even more frequent. To hear Malfoy tell it, his father was single-handedly responsible for the removal of Ron's father from the Ministry. Malfoy stopped voicing this opinion quite so loudly, however, after one memorable occasion when Hermione had needed to cast the full Body-Bind on Ron to stop him from beating Malfoy into a bloody pulp.

Harry had suggested beginning the "Make Malfoy's Life Miserable" campaign, even though Malfoy had shown no further signs of making contact with Cho, just to make everyone feel a bit better. The effort was somewhat crippled without Fred and George, however, who only had the time to pull the occasional prank because they were worked into the ground. Along with whatever Bill and Charlie could spare, their jokes were putting the bread on their parents' table now. Harry felt that Cedric would have been proud to know that his winnings from the Triwizard Tournament were helping to support a worthy family who had lost their main source of income in the fight against Voldemort.

All things considered, it was early December before Harry knew it. The sky had been overcast all week, giving the Wednesday morning a particularly depressing overtone as the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins filed into Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Professor Snape was sitting stiffly in an armchair next to Professor Figg's, his nostrils flaring angrily as she fussed over how he should eat more and get out in the sun more often. Snape suffered in silence, glaring at any class member who dared voice any amusement, and staring suspiciously at the piece of chocolate cake that had obviously been forced into his hands, as though it might have been a poisonous snake.

The sight was nothing short of hilarious. Harry snorted softly, while Ron went a kind of puce colour in his efforts to suppress laughter, and even Hermione had to stifle a giggle as they moved to their usual seats.

When the class was all seated, Professor Figg left Snape alone and began to speak to the class. "We have finished the theoretical part of this class, we are about to begin on the practical. As you have learned in previous lessons, you can protect yourself from full strength curses by a wizard with about the same power or less than your own. I have requested Professor Snape's presence in this class to judge each of your raw potential and divide you into pairs with whom you can practice your curses and shielding. Severus?" she asked politely.

Professor Snape stood up and glared darkly around at the class, as though they were hardly worthy to receive his assistance. He reached under the desk and pulled out what looked like a briefcase stacked with small, stoppered vials full of a glowing potion. "This," he said silkily as he held up one of the vials, "is Energy Estimation Elixir. Each of you will drink one of these and, although you will not see your own response to the potion, the others in the class will see you begin to glow. The light will fade within a few minutes, but the brighter the light you produce, the more power you possess. Miss Brown!"

Lavender Brown jumped as her name was called, then quickly made her way to the front of the class. She looked nervously at the vial Snape handed her for a moment before drinking it down in one gulp. A soft glow suffused her body immediately and Snape made a notation next to her name on his list. Harry watched her carefully. Every part of her was glowing, right down to the bright strands of hair she was holding in front of her face as though trying to see the glow herself. Eventually seeming to decide that her best chance of seeing the glow was to watch the next person, Lavender scurried back to her seat.

Snape called for Millicent Bulstrode to come forward, who downed her potion without a second glance. A bright light showed around her and she made her way back to her seat among the cheers of the Slytherins. Crabbe barely glowed at all and Harry snorted when he heard Ron muttering, "Couldn't expect him to be anything but dim." Seamus Finnegan glowed just as brightly as Millicent and as soon as Seamus took his seat, Snape announced that they were to be partners.

Goyle glowed only a little and was put with Crabbe while Harry stifled a laugh at another nasty comment from Ron. Hermione almost ran to the front of the classroom when her name was called, somehow managing to look both eager and terrified at the same time. She needn't have worried, though, because she glowed even more brightly than Seamus and Millicent had. Neville's soft glow led him to be paired with Lavender. Malfoy let out a respectable glow only slightly less than Hermione's.

Most surprising to everyone but the teachers, was Parvati Patil, who shone brilliantly, like a small sun. It almost hurt Harry's eyes to look at her.

Before he knew it, Harry was down at the front of the class, taking his vial of potion from Snape. "Potter!" called Snape derisively, just as Harry raised the vial to his lips. "If you've got any of your mother in you at all, you'd better take a small sip first."

Staring at Snape, puzzled and apprehensive at what a larger sip might do to him, Harry followed orders and took only a small sip from the glowing vial in front of him.

Harry watched in amazement as all the others in the classroom instantly threw up their arms or hands, as if to shade their eyes from some brilliant light. Harry simply stood there, the horrible feeling dawning in him that he was special in one more way.

Professor Figg sat calmly in her chair with her hands over her face, calling out directions for everyone to cover their eyes, to sit down where they were, and not to panic. Snape seemed incapable of coherent speech, spluttering, "Potter! Headmaster! Now!" Then he swept out of the room, his black robes swirling behind him.

Harry meekly followed Snape through the halls. A strangely detached feeling came over him as he noticed that Snape's usual long strides had become somewhat shorter and more hesitant. He seemed to be wandering slightly from side to side in the corridor and his hands twitched slightly, as though they longed to reach out in front of him to feel the way. With a numb feeling approaching horror, Harry realised that Professor Snape was almost entirely blind from the dazzling light he seemed to have produced.

Snape, however, must have had the memory of an elephant, because he led them through the school unerringly. They went up stairs, down corridors, and finally stopped outside the gargoyle leading to Dumbledore's office. Snape seemed to flow up the moving staircase, one hand trailing unobtrusively on the wall, and then burst into Dumbledore's office, the door crashing into the wall spectacularly.

"He only had a tiny sip, Albus!" railed Snape at a spot slightly to the left of Professor Dumbledore's face, sounding confused and outraged. "That was ten minutes ago!" Dumbledore shaded his eyes as though from a moderately bright light as he looked at Harry, then nodded to Fawkes, his pet Phoenix. The bird brushed Harry's face lightly with his wing in greeting as he lifted off his perch and flew to Snape.

"Go away, you idiotic creature," snapped Snape, scowling and batting the large crimson and gold bird away as he attempted to settle on Snape's shoulder. Harry had to stifle a laugh at the sight of the dour Potions master beating wildly at the air all around him like a maniac.

"Severus," said Dumbledore quietly, but there was a note of command in his voice. Snape seemed to give up, lowering his arms to his sides, and tilting his head back. Fawkes settled calmly on Snape's shoulder and reached his long neck up over Snape's face, dropping one pearly tear into each of Snape's eyes.

Snape blinked a couple of times, then turned to face the bird on his shoulder, looking up to meet its eyes. "Thank you, Fawkes," he said resignedly, reaching up to stroke the bird's feathers. Then he seemed to remember Harry's presence in the room and quickly lowered his hand, as though embarrassed. Harry discarded that notion quickly as he found himself pinned by Snape's irate glare.

"Thank you, Severus," interrupted Dumbledore as Snape opened his mouth, the set of his jaw making it obvious that the Potions Master was itching to take house points. "Perhaps you would like to ask Poppy to attend to Arabella's class of dazzled students?" Snape glared at Harry for a moment more, then turned and stalked out of the office, pulling the door shut behind him with a sharp snap.

"Sit down, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore. "Sherbet lemon?" he asked, holding out a small tin. The Muggle sweets had fused into a single sticky yellow brick and since Harry couldn't see any way to extract a single sherbet lemon, he shook his head.

"Professor?" he asked tentatively. "What happened?"

"I believe you may have given Professor Snape the fright of his life, Harry," said Dumbledore with a slight smile. "He was struck blind by a stray curse in his youth and I believe he has always felt it to be one of the greatest indignities a wizard can suffer."

"I meant…" Harry replied, not sure whether Dumbledore had wilfully misunderstood him or not. "I meant… why? Why was I…" He trailed to a halt, simply looking at Dumbledore.

"Your mother was a very powerful witch, Harry," said Dumbledore, probing the sweet tin cautiously with his long fingers in his attempt to extract a sweet. "One of the more powerful ever to be at Hogwarts. And judging by Professor Snape's reaction, you seem to have a great deal more power than she did.

"If I'm not mistaken," Dumbledore continued gravely, squinting slightly at Harry over the top of his half-moon spectacles, "you have the combined strength of three incredibly powerful people in you." Harry just gaped at him.

"Have you learned anything about blood magic, Harry? No, of course," Dumbledore hurriedly continued, "you have not, the elective begins next year, since it is not available as an O.W.L." Abandoning his sherbet lemons, Dumbledore steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. "Where to begin?

"Ah yes," he said finally. "Do you remember in your first year, I told you the reason that Professor Quirrell could not touch you was because of your mother's love?" Harry nodded numbly. "That was, of course, true, but it was not the whole story. Magic and blood are heavily interrelated, which is where all this foolishness about purity of blood started. Completely unwarranted, of course, because most of the pureblood lines are now so inbred that the strength of their magic is diminishing. But I digress.

"Family members tend to share magical talents, leading to similar magical signatures. Many strange things can be accomplished by family members working together, as their magic melds in a way it could never do with those of dissimilar blood. In particular, identical twins are currently an enormous area of research interest. Their magical signatures are identical and they are generally more powerful than other wizards. It has been theorised, but never proven, that they actually share their source of power, pooling all their powers between them by virtue of the similarity of their blood.

"From what I have surmised, your mother loved you so much that when she died, she was shielding _you_ with all her might, not sparing a single thought for her own safety." Dumbledore did not appear to notice as Harry's eyes suddenly burned with unshed tears, as he had returned to the engrossing task of separating the sherbet lemons in his tin.

"As a result, when she died, her power merged into your own; surrounding you; sheltering you; saving you from Voldemort. It is partially her power, come to you through love and blood, that you hold within your veins in addition to your own. The shield your mother left around you at her death remains in your body to this day, sustained by all the power you currently hold.

"When Voldemort attempted to kill you all those years ago, there was a very strange magical situation created by the combination of such a powerful and evil curse and a shield created by your family member, strengthened by the ultimate sacrifice of love. The curse was partially absorbed and partially reflected. All the power he put behind that curse was absorbed into your mother's shield of pure love, which formed a bridge for his power, causing it to be assimilated it into your body. As a result, you are not only a powerful wizard in your own right, but you have the borrowed power of both your mother and Voldemort flowing in your veins."

Harry's eyes dropped to survey the bare skin and slightly raised bluish veins on the back of his hand. They _looked_ perfectly normal. As Harry glanced up again, trying to get his head around the notion of holding power in his blood, he saw that Dumbledore was still looking at him very seriously. "That's not all, is it, Professor?" Harry asked, feeling a little sick as he realised that the headmaster had not finished.

Professor Dumbledore sighed. "No, Harry, indeed it is not. I am familiar with the rite Voldemort used to bring about his resurrection. Since Voldemort used your blood to resurrect himself, the blood flowing in his veins is yours, just as his flesh is Wormtail's and his bone is his father's. Your blood is shared between the two of you, sustaining you both. This has strengthened your connection to him, giving us more warning on his plans and humanising him in a way that he wasn't before, so that he can – eventually – be defeated. There is, however, a catch.

"Sharing blood has prepared a path for your magical energies to be fused together, similar to the way identical twins draw from the same pool of power. Should he die," Professor Dumbledore continued, "the rest of his powers will be transferred to you in full."

Harry gaped again. "Do you mean that if I die…" Harry trailed off, unable to complete his sentence. His brain was whirring too fast with the possibilities.

"Do you understand now, Harry, why he wants you dead so badly, and why it is imperative to the side of the Light that you stay alive?" asked Dumbledore gravely. "If Voldemort comes into possession of the power you bear, he will be almost entirely unbeatable."

***

Harry stumbled back into the common room and went straight to bed, barely noticing the sudden hush that fell over the common room as he entered, thanks to his new reason for fame. Ginny followed him, not asking for any explanation of his visit to the headmaster, for which he was grateful. It was still light outside when he fell into a fitful sleep, the shadows only soothed away by Ginny's comforting embrace.


	30. The Wolf

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 30: The Wolf**

The sky was grey with the approach of dusk. The long shadows of the trees darkened a large cage that stood in the centre of the clearing where Voldemort usually met with his followers. Voldemort peered through the bars, blocking Harry's view of the occupant, as the Death Eaters clustered around the cage, laughing. Harry felt a burning mix of frustration and rage emanating from Voldemort as the Dark Lord raised his wand and spoke. "_Crucio_." Harry stiffened at the pain in his scar, but stood firm and the pain receded to the dull itch typically left from Ginny's healing.

It was a man's voice, but the muted half groans he was emitting were far different from the usual screams of victims of the Cruciatus Curse. This man was obviously used to pain.

Finally it was over and the man was left panting on the bottom of the cage. "I will _never_ tell you anything, Voldemort," he said evenly. "Pain is nothing to me."

"Interesting," came the dispassionate voice of Voldemort. Harry would never have guessed that the Dark Lord was angry if he couldn't feel the dark emotions swirling around him like a vortex, pulling his consciousness towards Voldemort. "So used to the pain of your curse? So used to the feeling of your bones breaking into a million pieces and reforming that the Cruciatus Curse doesn't bother you? Interesting. And what of the pain of knowing that you have been betrayed? I knew that you were the Secret Keeper the very same day you were appointed because one of your beloved students betrayed you! Ah, but of course you are used to betrayal: perhaps you should have made your friends in Hufflepuff?" A snigger ran through the ranks of the Death Eaters, cut off immediately as Voldemort continued. "No matter, I bided my time for a very good reason. I have another way to make you talk. Wormtail, bring her forward."

Harry felt peculiarly emotionally detached as he watched the man who had betrayed his parents drag a tiny girl towards the cage. Harry judged she was about four years old and she had curly blond hair. Although she was struggling violently, alternately kicking her captor in the shins and digging in her heels, she had no chance against the grown man pulling her along.

"Everyone back," called Voldemort, stepping back himself, and Harry got his first look at the man in the cage. He had greying hair and tattered robes, although he looked fairly young. The swellings and bruises and the blood flowing freely from his lip concealed his face enough to make him merely vaguely familiar. It was only the man's reaction to Wormtail that finally verified his identity for Harry.

"Peter," he spat out, "you rat. How could you betray Lily and James? And then hurt Harry, who saved you? We loved you, Peter. We were your friends. We –" Remus Lupin broke off for a moment before continuing in a softer tone. "We trusted you. It's not too late, Peter. You don't have to stay serving a master you hate."

Wormtail ignored his former friend, trapping the little girl between his knees while he unlocked the cage and opened the door. As he was opening it, Remus lunged, but Wormtail simply held his silver hand at arms length and pushed back against the taller man's chest. There was a horrible sizzling sound and Remus was thrown back against the far side of the cage. Remus jerked away from the cage bars instantly, as though burned. Harry realised this was probably the case; he remembered Snape had told them in the lesson he had given on werewolves that they were burned by the touch of silver. Wormtail's silver hand obviously affected Remus significantly, even through his robes. What better way to keep a werewolf in a cage than to make sure he could not touch the bars?

If Wormtail had any sympathy for the man in front of him, it was hidden behind his impassive Death Eater mask. Remus' face was twisted with pain and despair as he continued pleading with his old friend. "It's still not too late, Peter. You can never atone for what you've done, but you can make a start."

Wormtail threw the little girl into the cage, slammed the door and locked the enormous silver padlock again. Bowing low to his master, he returned to his place in the circle, now a respectful distance from the cage.

The little girl recovered quickly and moved to stand in front of Remus. "Hello. My name's Sally. What's yours?"

"Remus," he told her softly.

"I'm scared, Mr. Remus," the small girl said, moving closer to sit down next to him. Remus instinctively moved his arm to protectively shelter her. "Why is everybody wearing funny clothes? Why are we in a cage? What's going to happen to us? Have the baddies caught us?"

"Yes, Mr. Remus," mocked Voldemort, again in a voice belying his towering rage and frustration at the effort he was forced to expend on breaking one Secret Keeper. "Why don't you tell the little Mudblood why she is in the cage with you? Why don't you tell her what's going to happen in about ten minutes when the moon rises?" Remus stiffened and stared down at the little girl who had hidden her face in his shoulder – Sally, Harry reminded himself, her name is Sally – but Voldemort was not finished. "Look at me, girl!" he commanded her. She bravely raised her face and stared at him.

"Mr. Remus here is going to turn into a wolf and he's going to tear you into little bits. The cage is to protect _us _from him, but it's not going to protect _you_. I'll unlock the cage and get you out of there, if Mr. Remus tells us one little bit of information. Why don't you ask him if he can tell us where to find the Creeveys?"

Harry was now desperately trying to wake up. He had to warn Professor Dumbledore. Someone had to save Sally. But he couldn't. He was fast asleep. He realised that he didn't even know where the forest was, he couldn't do anything; he couldn't send anybody after her. All he could do was wait and hope.

"You're a bad man!" Sally was yelling at Voldemort. "You let me out, right now. Don't you tell him anything, Mr. Remus. He's a bad man and I don't believe him." She looked hopefully up at Remus, tears starting in the corners of her eyes. "He's lying, isn't he?"

"He's telling the truth," said Remus softly. "I am going to turn into a vicious wolf and there's nothing I can do about it. I can't help it. The only thing I can do would be to tell him where two little boys' house is, so that he can kill their mummy and daddy and little sister. I don't know what to do. I promised them that I would never let anyone know where they were, but I have to. I can't have you in here when I transform. I have to tell them." Sally had stopped crying now, staring in wonder at the tears streaking silently down Remus' cheeks, then she looked out at the circle of laughing Death Eaters.

"Those boys would miss their mummy and daddy very much, wouldn't they?" Sally was quite solemn, waiting for Remus' nod. "Well, my mummy won't miss me any more because the bad men made her dead. Daddy, too. So I think it's better if I stay in here with you and then they won't have to miss their mummy at all. And besides, he's a baddie, and in films and stuff, the baddie wouldn't let me out if you told him what he wanted to know, he'd just leave me in here anyway."

"How old are you, Sally?" Remus' voice was choked.

"I'm five."

Remus pulled the tiny girl onto his lap and held her close. "I'll always remember you as the wisest and the bravest little girl I've ever known, Sally." He turned back to Voldemort, his formally polite tone belying his anguished and tear-streaked face. "There's your answer. We'd both rather die."

Voldemort laughed, obviously not believing that Remus could go through with it, although the force of Voldemort's outrage at the man's defiance nearly bowled Harry over. "You still have about five minutes to make your decision. Make sure to call if you change your mind!" He retreated with the other Death Eaters to a spot about fifty feet away and Harry resisted the pull of Voldemort's mind to stay with Remus.

After cradling Sally protectively for a moment, Remus shifted the little girl off his lap. Obvious ripples of pain travelled through his body, heralding the beginning of his transformation. "We have one last chance, Sally," Remus whispered, so quietly that Harry could barely hear, as he tore large strips from the bottom of his tattered robe. "I'm very strong right before I transform. If I can touch the bars, I might be able to shift them."

Remus bound his hands carefully with the strips of cloth, only stopping when there were about five layers covering his hands. Then, as though he was about to put his hand into fire, Remus reached toward the bars. A long, low cry of pain reached Harry's ears, but he almost cheered as he heard the screech of the bars shifting. Slowly, the gap between the two bars widened and when Remus was finished, there was a sizable hole.

Sally immediately moved to dash out of the hole, but Remus pulled her back. "I'm going to ask you to be brave again, Sally. I want you to stay in the cage and I'll go out and keep the bad men away from you. I'll bend the bars back so that I can't get in again once I'm the wolf and then I want you to stay in the middle of the floor. Don't let the wolf touch you, all right?"

Sally nodded, moving into the centre of the cage and sitting down carefully as Remus squeezed out and pulled the bars closed again, his cry even more pained as the metal tortured his already injured hands. Harry winced as the exhausted werewolf reached out one last time and twisted the padlock beyond recognition, so that the door could not be opened again.

As Remus sank down outside the cage door, finally succumbing to the seizures wracking his body, Harry looked back to where the Death Eaters were having their meeting.

Voldemort was returning, probably to offer Remus the ultimatum one more time. The red speckles in the Dark Lord's eyes started spinning as he saw that his prize had escaped. "Wormtail!" he roared and the balding man came running. "Put him back in the cage. He won't escape this easily!"

Wormtail moved forward, holding his silver hand threateningly in front of him, but it was obvious that he was too late. A final ripple ran through Remus and he lifted his face to the moon emerging from the trees. The sound of his professor's bones shattering made Harry flinch as the now part-wolf howled in agony. The hair on all Remus' exposed limbs was lengthening and curling, and the limbs themselves were shortening, as the shattered bones remade themselves into a different shape.

It was all over in a few seconds and Moony, twice the size of a normal wolf, shook himself off and lunged for Peter Pettigrew. The Animagus squeaked and transformed, running for his life towards the trees, his silver paw flashing in the light of the full moon.

The wolf gave up on the rat as a lost cause and turned to survey the rest of the clearing, his unreasoning eyes bloody red and his yellow teeth dripping thick ropes of saliva. The Death Eaters had all discreetly Disapparated, leaving Voldemort alone in the clearing. Moony leaped forward with a feral growl and the Dark Lord Disapparated just as the werewolf's jaws were about to close around his throat, sending Harry back to his bed.

_To be continued..._


	31. Sally

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 31: Sally**

Harry watched the entire nightmare again with Dumbledore and Ginny, feeling the same sense of horror he was sure he had felt when he had seen it for the first time, although he remembered almost nothing from the initial dream. He felt a peculiar attachment to the little girl – Sally – who had lost her parents for no reason beyond the fact that Voldemort was evil.

Harry could feel his hands trembling when they finally emerged from the Pensieve. Stumbling falteringly into one of the armchairs in Dumbledore's office, Harry clenched his teeth. He was angrier than he could ever remember being; angry with Voldemort, angry with the Death Eaters, and angry with Peter Pettigrew, the spineless coward who had allowed all this to happen.

Harry jumped as he felt Fawkes' warm weight settle on his shoulder and the bird began to croon his unearthly beautiful song in Harry's ear. Harry closed his eyes and let the sound wash over him, calming him. When he opened his eyes again, Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, looking very grave. "I will identify the location," he said slowly, "and have a rescue party sent as soon as the moon is set. Professor Lupin and Sally will be safe in the infirmary by morning. If Madam Pomfrey deems it appropriate, you may visit them there tomorrow. Now perhaps you had both better get some rest."

***

As soon as classes broke for lunch the next day, Harry raced for the infirmary. Ginny, although worried for Sally, did not seem to be quite as anxious as Harry, so she had decided to visit that evening instead of missing lunch.

Harry reached the door of the infirmary almost before he knew it. Two beds were curtained off at the far side of the room and he had taken a step towards them before he even realised it. He halted immediately. It would not do to get on Madam Pomfrey's bad side now; he wanted to be able to visit Remus as much as possible.

"Madam Pomfrey?" he called softly and the matron appeared from her office.

"Not more visitors!" she cried. "There have been visitors in and out all morning! Oh, it's you, Potter," she sighed. "Professor Dumbledore told me to expect you. Why he won't let my patients rest, I don't know. This is an infirmary!" she said indignantly.

"Please, Madam Pomfrey?" wheedled Harry. "I won't be long, I promise."

"All right, go ahead," she huffed. "It's not like he's getting any peace and quiet anyway. But don't tire him out! He's had a rough night and he's likely to be in here for four months or so recovering from silver poisoning this bad!"

Four months? Harry stared at her for a moment, as she bustled back towards her office, before coming to his senses and walking over to the two curtained-off beds. "Knock, knock," he announced, standing just outside the curtain.

"Come in," came a quiet, childish voice. Harry slipped through the curtains, closing them behind him before he turned to survey the scene. Sally sat, with a large picture book open on her lap, on the bed next to Remus, who was fast asleep. "Shhhh!" she said sternly. "Mr. Remus needs to sleep." She paused, as if considering his trustworthiness, before continuing, "Please don't tell the dragon-lady that he's asleep or she'll make me leave!"

"I won't," said Harry softly. Despite this unflattering description of Madam Pomfrey, Harry felt that Sally must have the motherly matron wrapped around her little finger. Otherwise she would never have been allowed to be sitting in the same bed as Remus, even if she was only technically allowed when he was awake.

Harry looked carefully at Remus. His old professor's hands were covered with enormous bandages and Harry could see an oily-looking yellow paste oozing out from underneath them. Remus looked pale and worn between the bruises, cuts, and abrasions that almost completely covered his face. The pain he was enduring was visible, even in sleep, from the tension in his muscles. "How is he?" asked Harry, moving closer to Remus to get a closer look at his hands.

"Stop!" cried Sally in sudden panic, halting him in his tracks. Seemingly remembering her own command about being quiet, she continued in a lower, but still panicky voice. "How do I know that you're not one of the bad people?"

Harry stared at the clearly terrified little girl for a moment, his mind racing. She had obviously been traumatised by the events of the previous night – who wouldn't have been? But how could he reassure her?

"Mr. Remus was a friend of my father," he started softly. "I would never hurt him. If it makes you feel better though, I could give you my wand. If you had my wand, I couldn't do anything to hurt you or Mr. Remus, even if I was one of the bad people."

Sally regarded him seriously for a moment and then nodded shakily. Harry reached slowly into his sleeve to retrieve his wand from the holster Ron had given him for his birthday and presented it to her. She took it cautiously and immediately set it on the table beside the bed, as though she could not bear to be in contact with it for longer than absolutely necessary.

Harry suppressed the urge to vomit. This tiny Muggle-born witch's introduction to the wizarding world had not been the beautiful and wondrous Diagon Alley, saved from relatives who hated her by a good-natured half-giant. She had probably watched her parents being tortured and killed on the wands of Death Eaters; no wonder she found his wand repulsive. Harry had to wonder if Sally would even want to be a witch now that she had seen the worst the wizarding world had to offer.

She seemed much more open to him now that he was without his wand, however, so he sat down on the bed that was obviously meant to be hers and tried to start a conversation. "What's the book you're reading, Sally?"

"I can't read – but I know all the letters," she assured him brightly. "Mr. Remus fell asleep half-way through the first page, so I was just looking at the pictures."

"Would you like me to read it to you?" asked Harry gently.

Sally's face lit up. "Oh, yes, please! It's so _boring_ in here, but I don't want to leave Mr. Remus." She slid carefully down from Remus' bed and climbed up next to Harry. "He makes me feel safe," she added in a small voice.

"I'm glad," replied Harry softly. He took the book from her and inspected the front cover, groaning when he saw the title: _Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived_.

"Mr. Remus said this is a true story," said Sally blithely, "to tell me about the bad man who killed Mummy and Daddy. The bad man killed a lot of people and then he died when he tried to kill a little boy with lightning on his forehead. I read that from the pictures." She looked very proud of her accomplishment, but her little forehead wrinkled as she asked a question that had obviously been bothering her, "But if he's dead, how did he kill Mummy and Daddy?"

Harry looked over to where Remus was sleeping for support. Even he could see how much Remus needed his sleep and he could only imagine what Madam Pomfrey would do to him if he woke up her patient. He looked down at Sally, who was staring up at him, waiting for an answer. He was on his own.

Harry took a deep breath. "Everyone thought that the bad wizard was dead. But about half a year ago, he came back. Not everyone believes that he's back, though, because it makes them scared."

"Grown-ups, too?" Sally asked in horror.

"Grown-ups, too," replied Harry sadly.

Sally was silent, swinging her legs under the bed, staring at the floor. Suddenly she looked up at him again. "You've got lightning on your forehead. Are you Harry Potter?" Harry sighed and nodded. "The bad wizard killed your mummy and daddy too, didn't he?" When Harry nodded again, Sally's eyes welled up with tears, spilling over in a sudden flood. "I… miss… Mummy… Daddy…" she sobbed brokenly

Harry froze for only a moment before his instincts kicked in. He reached down and lifted Sally onto his lap, holding her tightly as her wailing grew in volume. He rubbed her back gently, trying to think of something to say; trying to think of what he wished someone had told him. _It's all right_, he wanted to say, but he knew that it wasn't. _It's not your fault_, blossomed in his mind momentarily, but that didn't seem appropriate. "I want my Mummy," whimpered Sally again.

"It'll get better," Harry promised the little girl, hardly knowing what else to say. He raised his eyes to see Madam Pomfrey standing just inside the curtain, summoned by the noise of Sally's crying.

"She's a strong little thing, despite everything," she murmured as she sat down on the bed next to Harry and disentangled Sally from his neck. She cuddled the sobbing girl close to her, gently rocking her back and forth. Madam Pomfrey's eyes were filled with tears as she turned back to Harry and said, "I'll take it from here, Potter. Lunch is almost over, so you'd better get to class." Madam Pomfrey paused briefly, before continuing with a hint of a smile, "But you're welcome to come back this evening. I'm sure that Sally and Professor Lupin would both appreciate a visit."

As Harry walked out of the infirmary he realised that hell had just frozen over: Madam Pomfrey had invited him to visit a patient in the infirmary.

***

Since he had missed lunch to visit Remus and Sally in the infirmary, Harry was absolutely starving by the time classes finished. Ron and Hermione seemed to be feeling the need to have some time alone, so Harry asked if Ginny would like to accompany him on a trip down to the kitchens for a pre-dinner snack.

Although Dobby the house-elf, who worked in the Hogwarts kitchen, was thrilled at the great honour he was being given when Harry requested a large tub of chocolate ice cream, he was nearly driven to tears by Ginny's refusal of anything to eat. She was eventually pressed to have a glass of pumpkin juice, mainly because she was attempting to disguise her giggles at the house-elf's antics as coughs. Harry refused the tall parfait glasses Dobby provided, deciding that it would be faster if he simply dug into the tub of ice cream with one of the long spoons Dobby had given him.

He had swiftly consumed about half the tub when he looked up from his concerted efforts to relocate the ice cream into his stomach to find Ginny laughing hysterically. Harry had to admit that he probably made quite a picture, standing in the middle of the kitchen slurping chocolate ice cream straight from the tub as fast as he could. "S'good," he grinned at her through a mouthful, before turning back to his task with equal zeal. Ginny collapsed in helpless laughter, forcing Harry to swallow quickly as his own laughter bubbled out.

All in all, it was in high spirits that Harry made his way back to the common room to start another study session with Hermione. Just as he sat down at the table to begin on revision for Transfiguration, however, a sleek express owl arrived bearing a letter from Sirius, which brought his mood down once more.

In the letter, Sirius told Harry the full details behind Remus' capture. Apparently Sirius and Remus had spent the best part of the last month putting up anti-Dementor wards all around the house, meaning that finally there was a place where Sirius was safe. Dumbledore had forbidden Sirius to leave the wards for any reason and so, however much he wanted to, he had not been allowed to accompany Remus for the full moon. Remus had left the house alone to spend the full moon at his usual werewolf safe house in the next village. He never arrived at the safe house; the Death Eaters had obviously snatched him on the way there. Reading between the lines, it was quite clear that Sirius was blaming himself for not being there to help his friend.

Sirius begged Harry for the details of Remus' condition, since he was not allowed to visit his friend. Promising Hermione that he would work twice as hard on Transfiguration in their next session, Harry wrote back immediately, describing Remus' condition as best he could, including Madam Pomfrey's diagnosis that it would probably take months for him to overcome the silver poisoning. He made sure to use Ginny's catch phrase, "It's not your fault," at least once every paragraph throughout the letter, hoping that at least the quantity might help to assuage Sirius' guilt.

That evening, when he returned to the infirmary with Ginny, he read Sirius' letter to a fairly cheerful Remus and asked if he wanted to add anything to his reply.

"Tell the mangy mongrel that if he doesn't stop blaming himself, I'll have him fixed," said Remus coolly. Harry stared at him in shock for a moment and was relieved to see his old professor wink impishly. After a short deliberation Harry decided that, if nothing else did, it would probably convince Sirius that Remus was feeling better, so he wrote it down verbatim.

"What do you mean by 'fixed,' Mr. Remus? Is he broken?" interrupted Sally innocently, as Harry put his quill to parchment. "What? Why are you laughing, Mr. Remus? What's so funny?"

_To be continued..._


	32. Dress Robes

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 32: Dress Robes**

Days passed and Sally stayed in the infirmary. Dumbledore himself accompanied the little girl to her parents' funeral, being the only adult wizard besides Remus whom she could bring herself trust with a wand. Of course, Harry thought to himself with a smile as he watched the pair disappear towards Hogsmeade, it was somewhat difficult to mistrust Dumbledore, especially if you were a child and rather fond of sweets.

Harry was sitting with Remus, working on a Charms essay, when Dumbledore returned from the funeral with Sally fast asleep on his shoulder. The venerable wizard tucked the tiny girl in very gently before turning to Remus and dropping his bombshell.

"Albus!" Remus gasped. "You can't possibly… I've almost killed her once already! I'm a _werewolf_! I'm not a suitable guardian for a child!"

"On the contrary," replied Dumbledore solemnly, although his eyes twinkled madly. "I most certainly can, as I have already set the paperwork in motion. And I object to your statement that you 'almost killed her.' You _saved_ her life. You have earned her trust and I must say that I believe you deserve it. You have been most conscientious in ensuring that she brushes her teeth, doesn't eat too many sweets, goes to bed on time, and knows that there are those who care for her. What more could a child ask for in a guardian?"

"Surely, Albus," said Remus in bewilderment, "there is someone more suitable. There has never been anything that I wanted more than children, and Sally is everything I've ever dreamed of, but I've always known that it's just not possible! I could hurt her!"

"You could never hurt her, Remus," said Dumbledore firmly. "You have already proved that you would sacrifice your health for her and I know that you would not hesitate to sacrifice your life for her. You know as well as I do that she has no living relatives and there seems to be no one who is eager to take her in. I confirmed that at the funeral. Would you condemn her to an orphanage? Do you really think that they could possibly provide her with the love and attention she needs to help her through this terrible time?"

Harry quietly excused himself as Remus opened his mouth to object once more, not wanting to intrude on what was obviously turning out to be a private conversation. He hid a private smile as he slid out through the curtains. From the sounds of things, Remus didn't have a chance of convincing the implacable headmaster that he was an unsuitable guardian for Sally. Harry was in full agreement with Dumbledore on this subject; Remus was already ten times the parent to Sally that the Dursleys had been to him, even if Remus couldn't see that himself.

***

Harry continued to visit the infirmary almost every day, reading Sally stories, playing games with her, and generally introducing her to the more pleasant aspects of the wizarding world. Sally was particularly impressed with Harry's Invisibility Cloak, which turned out to be of excellent use in a tremendously long game of hide-and-seek. Harry always seemed to "forget" to hide a hand, a foot, or a head, while Sally was no more difficult to find because she gave herself away immediately with hysterical giggling. Harry politely ignored the giveaways and pretended not to know where she was, floundering around at the opposite end of the infirmary, causing Sally to giggle even more uncontrollably.

The pivotal point in Harry's campaign to show Sally that the wizarding world was not all dark curses and Death Eaters came when Madam Pomfrey refused to let Harry bring Hedwig into the infirmary to show Sally, claiming that the bird was "unhygienic." She did, however, let Harry take Sally out of the infirmary so she could go up to see all the owls for herself.

The Owlery was as dark and smelly as ever, the sound of rustling feathers filling the air as jewel-bright eyes winked down at them from all sides. Sally stood in the middle of the floor, staring up at all the owls in open wonder. Harry called Hedwig down to him and showed Sally how she liked the feathers at the back of her head and neck scratched, and then coaxed her onto Sally's shoulder. Sally could hardly contain her glee as she petted the snowy white owl. Hedwig sent Harry a long-suffering expression, but leaned her head back blissfully into the small girl's caresses.

Sally took the stairs two at a time all the way back to the infirmary and burst in excitedly, racing over to where Madam Pomfrey was changing Remus' bandages. "Well, really!" cried Madam Pomfrey. "What is this about?"

"I'm going to be witch when I grow up, so I can have an owl!" cried Sally as she climbed back up onto the bed beside Remus, who smiled indulgently at her. "I want a white owl like Harry's. Her name's Hedwig and she's a snowy owl. She's beautiful, Mr. Remus! When I get an owl I'll scratch her behind her head where she can't reach, like this!" She held up her finger in an approximation of scratching a bird's head. "An' I'll call her… I'll call her…" Sally's brow furrowed as she thought hard, then smoothed again as she came up with a suitable name. "Yoghurt."

Sally seemed quite offended when Remus, Harry and Madam Pomfrey all burst out laughing. "What?" she asked indignantly. "I like yoghurt! An' it's white like a snowy owl. I can call my owl Yoghurt if I like!"

Harry laughed all the way back to Gryffindor Tower.

***

The third week of December arrived bringing not snow, but sleet. Harry had cancelled Quidditch practice until the weather improved. Even though Oliver would probably have made them play in this weather, Harry couldn't help but worry that his team would end up in the hospital wing if he insisted that they spend several hours per day soaked to the bone with icy water.

Harry trudged alone up to the common room after the last class of the day. Although Ron and Hermione had been fantastic about including Harry in everything they did and refraining from most overt demonstrations of their love in his presence, he was beginning to feel a little left out by the whole thing. They had started laughing together at the strangest things, like when Seamus asked anyone to pass the salt. Harry had stopped asking them to explain because whenever they tried, it didn't seem funny in the slightest. Mostly he could just ignore them. Then there were days like today.

At the end of Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall had announced that, due to the tremendous success of the Yule Ball the previous year, a Christmas Ball would be held again this year. All the girls in the class had immediately started squealing their delight, while all the boys, save Ron, had groaned out loud. Ron's face had taken on a beatific expression as he turned to Hermione in the middle of class and asked her to go to the ball with him. Professor McGonagall had taken fifteen points from Gryffindor for wasting class time, but Harry could see that, despite Hermione's distress at the loss of points, she had been quite flattered.

Ron and Hermione had seen nothing but each other for the rest of the day, while Harry's eyes kept being drawn to the rapidly formed groups of giggling girls that seemed to have sprung up all over the castle almost immediately upon the announcement. When the last class of the day had finished, Harry had turned around to find that Ron and Hermione had simply disappeared. After looking in a few of the usual places, Harry gave up, deciding that they didn't want to be found.

"Mistletoe," Harry told the Fat Lady glumly, before going into his room for some peace and quiet. To his dismay, it seemed he couldn't escape from the ball even there. Ginny lay comfortably on her stomach on the bed, scowling an enormous tome labelled _Charmingly Chic: 500 Useful Alteration Enchantments_. Carefully laid out next to her on the bed were her dress robes from the last ball.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked, looking for a place to dump his books, intending on dropping in to see Remus and Sally before dinner.

"Oh, they're just too small!" she growled, shutting the book with a thump. "I've found a charm that will let out the seams in a few places, but not quite enough. They're real silk and at least fifty years old, so they'd probably fall apart even if I did try it. But the worst problem is the length! There's not a charm in the world that can lengthen these robes further than the amount that was taken up for the hem. I've grown eight inches in the last year! _Eight_! That means that even if I let them down all the way, they'd be six inches off the floor! It's impossible. Absolutely impossible."

An idea suddenly sprung to life in Harry's mind. "Ginny," he said slowly, not quite knowing how to approach her, "it sounds like you're in just as much need for robes as Ron is."

Ginny snorted. "I don't think that Ron would even think about going to the ball in those awful robes if it weren't for Hermione!"

"I bought him some new ones," said Harry abruptly. "Well," he amended, "I gave Fred and George some money and asked them to buy some because I didn't think that he'd accept them from me. I think they're going to give them to him for Christmas. Do I…" his voice wavered a bit, then firmed. "Do I have to ask them to buy yours as well or will you let me buy them?"

"I can't let you do that, Harry," she replied firmly, the sudden hope that flickered in her eyes quickly squashed. "That's _not_ why I told you about this!"

"I _know _that!" cried Harry. "I wouldn't _want_ to get them for you if that _had_ been why you'd said something! But look – I'm not going to take no for an answer. We're allowed to go to Hogsmeade next weekend and you can pick out whatever you like from that robe shop down there. It's either that, or I'll ask Hermione to help me chose something and buy it for you anyway."

Ginny just stared at him in disbelief. "Are you sure, Harry?" she demanded. "That's a very expensive Christmas present!"

"Sure," Harry shrugged. "I forgot to get you a birthday present this year, this can make it up to you."

"It certainly will!" cried Ginny in sudden relief, leaping off the bed and flinging her arms around Harry's neck. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" She danced off again, grabbed her old robes off the bed and threw them into the air. "_Incendio_!" she cried. The robes flashed instantly to ash, the tiny white flakes showering down on the carpet. "_Absturgo_!" The ash collected into a small pile, which Ginny scooped up in her hands and tossed out the window.

"Now, if only my problem was as easily solved," groused Harry as he sat on the bed. "I don't even want to go with anyone because I don't like dancing. I think I'll just go by myself."

Ginny stopped, then grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet. "The only reason you don't like dancing is that you're no good at it. Once you know what you're doing, it's really fun. Mum made us all learn and even Ron caught on eventually! Here, come on, I still owe you for these dress robes. I'll teach you."

"Ginny!" Harry protested, but it was no good. With a flick of her wand, Ginny turned on her battered magical wireless and grabbed hold of him the same way Parvati had the year before.

"Now," she said, "the basic part's easy. Just move from one foot to the other every time there's a beat. Think about revolving and slowing moving in a circle, but don't try too hard; that bit doesn't matter too much. You're steering, I'll just follow you."

Harry resigned himself to doing as instructed. At least he knew Ginny well enough to know that he could make mistakes and laugh at himself. Half the problem with dancing with Parvati last year had been that he had not felt comfortable with her. It felt pretty silly, with just he and Ginny dancing, but he had to admit that once Ginny had told him what he was supposed to be doing, it got a lot easier. By the time an hour had past, he was enjoying himself as much as Ginny had promised and they were attempting some more complicated moves.

"All right, all right," he admitted as the music stopped once more and the voice of the announcer came over the radio. "You were right. Dancing isn't so bad."

"I told you so!" said Ginny smugly, her brown eyes sparkling brilliantly in her freckled face as she grinned at him.

Harry's insides gave a familiar lurch and Harry struggled to place the feeling. He was shocked to realise that it was the same lurch his stomach used to give when he had gone near Cho Chang last year. Surely… no. He didn't feel anything like what he had for Cho about Ginny. Last year, he had hardly been able to think around Cho, his mind was so filled with the knowledge that she was the most beautiful creature in the world. He had been tongue-tied, nervous, and clumsy. It was different with Ginny. She made him feel safe, warm, and happy. With Ginny, he was… comfortable. So it couldn't be the same thing. What could it be?

"Harry?" asked Ginny. "Are you all right? You've gone all red."

"It's just – I dunno," said Harry, stumbling over his words. Why not, after all? Going to the ball together wouldn't have to change their friendship. Harry opened his mouth and then quickly closed it again, remembering what a disaster asking Cho had been last year. He carefully ordered his thoughts before saying, "I just don't want to go to the ball if I have to spend the evening with some girl I'd usually never talk to."

Harry's insides felt like they had been turned to jelly as he looked piercingly at Ginny, hoping that she'd catch his meaning without needing him to elaborate. She did.

"That's easy!" she laughed. "Why don't we go together?"

"I'd really like that," said Harry calmly, breathing an inward sigh of relief. He was suddenly gripped by the irrational urge to caper around the room much the same way as Ginny had when he had offered to buy her new dress robes. He couldn't quite think why.

They began to slowly dance again as the wireless softly started playing the next song.

_To be continued..._


	33. The Ball

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 33: The Ball**

Christmas had arrived before Harry knew it. The sleet stopped for a week, allowing the slushy grounds to dry out before the snow started in earnest. Harry held several highly unconventional Quidditch practices involving snowballs after the Gryffindor team had woken up about a week ago to find the Quidditch pitch covered in three feet of powdery snow. Laughter echoed around the pitch for hours as the Gryffindor team had a scrimmage, and the team felt much better for the relief from the pressure of training for the upcoming game against Ravenclaw.

The incessant talk of the Christmas Ball didn't bother Harry quite so much now that he had a date. He didn't even let Malfoy and his gang's insistent suggestions that Harry and Ginny's arrangement for the ball included the exchange of money for services rendered bother him overly much. The first few times, he had gone bright red and hissed, "We're just _friends_!" but after seeing how remarkably ineffective it was, he decided to just ignore them.

Harry was generally left alone by the hoards of girls giggling in the corridors, although he wasn't sure whether that was because he already had a date or because people still felt that he was responsible for Cedric's death. At any rate, Harry had grown so used to half the student population suspecting him for some crime or other that he hardly noticed the glares anymore, so he decided to count his blessings.

Hogwarts was decorated in the usual style of icicles and glittering fairies. Enormous trees sprung up in the Great Hall with new decorations on them each day as Professor Flitwick continued decorating them every evening. Classes wound slowly to a halt, although the teachers assigned masses of holiday work to their students. Perhaps the heaviest load of essays was for Defence Against the Dark Arts. The huge amounts of theoretical homework and essays Professor Figg assigned had restored Hermione's faith in Professor Figg as a teacher, despite the fact that during class time, Defence was a purely practical subject.

Every Defence class was an almost constant duel between each set of partners. The objectives were to increase endurance, decrease reaction times, and minimise the time it took to drop and raise shields. The shield had to be maintained to protect against curses, dropped to send a curse, and then instantly raised again to protect against the spell's ricochet. Students dropped out of the duels to sit down as their personal reserves of power were depleted to the point where they were risking exhaustion, although Harry had yet to find a limit to the time he could spend maintaining a shield.

By the holidays, Harry and his partner, Parvati Patil, could both produce quite respectable shields with almost infinitesimal raise and drop times. Parvati's shield still broke easily under Harry's full strength tickling curses, but it held when he was careful to moderate them to match her power level. Parvati was now working on increasing the strength of her shield against Harry's stronger curses, while Harry, since not even Professor Figg was strong enough to break his shield, was working on altering the area covered by his. A larger shield was harder to maintain and slower to raise and drop, but could protect nearby inanimate objects. A smaller shield was just as difficult as a larger shield, as the shield needed to be moulded to the body's contours without ever touching the skin, but if it was close enough to the skin it was almost invisible. Professor Figg had assured him that this work on resizing his shield would prove useful in the next unit, where they studied how to extend their protective shield to cover an additional person. Harry was looking forward to this topic so much that he completed all the holiday work for Defence Against the Dark Arts before the holidays started – even before Hermione had finished, much to her consternation.

Harry was woken early on Christmas morning by Ginny prodding him beneath his ribs, where he was most ticklish. In a sudden movement, he rolled the two of them over, expertly trapping both her hands above her head. "I surrender!" she cried frantically as he pulled the bottom of her pyjama shirt up slightly to expose her stomach. She batted her eyelashes ridiculously at him. "You wouldn't tickle a defenceless girl, would you?"

"Of course not," said Harry, feigning innocence. "I would, however, tickle _you_!" Ginny shrieked and writhed helplessly as Harry tickled her mercilessly for several seconds before releasing her. "Now, shall we open our presents?" he asked.

Ginny dived immediately for the gold box containing her new dress robes and reverently pulled them out of the protective tissue paper. "Oh, they're just like I remembered them!" she cried, holding the robes up against her body and rushing over to the mirror in the corner of the room.

Harry considered himself to be almost an expert on the subject of dress robes after the day he had spent shopping with Ginny. It seemed that Ginny had tried on almost every set of robes in the store, but when they had seen these robes, they had both instantly decided that they were the ones. They were of a very plain cut, in what appeared to be a dark navy colour. It was only when the light touched them at just the right angle that the iridescent blue-green shone through. Harry had been amazed by the way the soft, dark fabric moulded gently to the curves of her body, glittering here and there as she twirled in the dimly lit shop. He had paid for them before Ginny had even changed back into her school robes.

Ginny carefully hung the robes in the wardrobe, before returning to draw Harry into a tight embrace. "Thank you," she said simply. "Now open mine!"

"Which one?" asked Harry, staring at the small pile of presents at the bottom of the bed. The lumpy parcel containing Mrs. Weasley's jumper was obvious, as was the small parcel that could only be a pair of socks from Dobby. The rest, however, could not be so easily identified.

"There," she said, pointing to a thick package that looked rather like a book.

Harry picked it up and carefully lifted the Spellotape holding together the red and gold paper, drawing it aside to reveal a photo album. There was a photograph of Harry, Ron and Hermione on the front. It looked like the end of second year, after Harry and Ron had come up from the Chamber of Secrets and Hermione had been revived. Their arms were around each other and as he watched the picture, Ron turned to whisper something to the other two and they all burst out laughing. Harry could vaguely remember when the photo had been taken; Colin had just been revived and insisted that he needed to take a photo of the trio to show his parents.

As he turned the pages carefully, each photograph brought back floods of memories of all his years at Hogwarts. There was a picture of the sobbing Oliver Wood holding up the Quidditch Cup from third year. Another showed a particularly good shot of his battle with the Hungarian Horntail the previous year; the miniature Harry in the picture dove frantically around the frustrated dragon as it breathed jets of fire at him. A photograph near the end showed a small white blur moving up and down over what was otherwise a perfectly normal image of the Entrance Hall. Harry squinted at it from the left and then the right and decided that, if he tried hard enough, he could just make it out to be a bouncing ferret.

"I thought," said Ginny tentatively, "that you should have an album to remember all the good times you've had here. Your only photos are those ones of your parents and I know that they're great, but they make you a bit depressed. You can look at these if you're ever feeling a bit down."

Harry stared at her in gratitude and then pulled her close in a hug. "Thank you," he said. "This is exactly what I needed. I don't think I'll ever be able to be depressed again!"

"Well, that was the idea!" she replied. "I'm getting a bit sick of telling you that it's not your fault, you know?" Harry burst out laughing. Between gasps, he managed to push Ginny back onto the bed and pin her down, starting to tickle her again. It was some time before any of the rest of their presents were opened.

***

"Harry!" shrieked Sally, racing across the room to grab Harry around the legs as entered the infirmary that afternoon. "Thank you! She's even beautifuller than Hedwig! She's the most beautiful owl ever!"

Remus smiled at him from his bed as Harry lifted Sally into his arms and walked over to him. Remus was looking quite a bit better now that the bruises had faded and his split lip had closed over, although his hands were still heavily bandaged and his overall pale and sickly complexion had not improved. "Your present caused quite some excitement this morning," he remarked dryly. "Although I haven't managed to change her mind about calling the poor thing 'Yoghurt'."

"Mr. Remus," said Sally indignantly, shaking a small finger in what was probably an unconscious imitation of Madam Pomfrey. "Yoghurt is a perfectly good name for an owl!"

"That's right, Sally," Harry laughed, swinging the little girl around. "Yoghurt _is_ a perfectly good name for an owl. I never expected you to change your mind! Now how about we take her up to the Owlery so that Madam Pomfrey's not so cranky and then you can come and have a snowball fight with me and my friends?"

***

The snowball fight lasted most of the way through the afternoon. Sally was completely exhausted by the time Ron and Harry finally called a truce, long after Hermione and Ginny returned to Gryffindor Tower to begin preparing for the ball.

"I can't walk, Harry," moaned Sally, as they start the trek back to the castle. The little girl demonstrated by falling facedown into the snow and struggling gamely to get up. "My legs are too heavy." Harry rolled his eyes at Ron before picking her up and carrying her the rest of the way to the infirmary. She was asleep on his shoulder before he even made it back into the castle.

When he finally returned to the head dormitory, he was surprised to find it empty, but since Ginny's dress robes and toiletries were gone, he decided that she must have gone to get prepared with the other girls.

After taking a shower, it was only a moment's work to shrug into his dress robes from the previous year. He scowled for a minute at the fact that they still fit him perfectly, since he'd hardly grown at all in the meantime. Ginny was taller than him by at least three inches now which was quite embarrassing. Attempting to comb his hair into some semblance of order took longer, although he gave up after only a couple of minutes due to the rude comments from his mirror.

As he slipped out through the door to the head dormitory, scrubbed and dressed for the ball, his eyes fell on a sight that made him hide a smile of pride. "Wow, Ron!" he exclaimed, feigning surprise. "Where'd you get the new robes?"

Ron's ears turned bright magenta as he looked down at his brand new, royal blue dress robes. There was not a hint of lace anywhere. "The twins gave them to me for Christmas. No idea how they afforded it, or why, but they don't _seem_ to be hexed in any way." Ron glared mistrustfully at Fred and George, who were just making their way out the portrait hole with their dates. "I'm wearing Muggle clothes underneath, in case they turn invisible halfway through the night or something."

"I wouldn't put it past them," grinned Harry, "but maybe they're perfectly normal and they're just doing it to make you worry about nothing all night?"

"Yeah, that'd be like them all right," huffed Ron. "I'm just going to try to forget about it and enjoy the ball. Make sure you let me know, though, if anything goes wrong?"

"Ron!" breathed Hermione, appearing at the bottom of the girls' staircase before Harry could do more than give Ron an amused nod. "You look…"

"So do you, Hermione," replied Ron in a trembling voice, his ears returning to their bright magenta colour. Harry turned to look. Hermione did look nice, but he didn't interrupt because she had eyes only for Ron. Her hair was twisted into the same elegant knot she had worn the previous year and her robes were a deep purple colour, swishing gently about her feet as she moved towards Ron. When she reached him, she stood on tiptoes to whisper something softly in his ear. Ron's face flushed even more and he reached out to grasp her hand. The two made their way over to the portrait hole without even a backward glance at Harry.

"They look good together, don't they?" whispered a voice from behind him.

Ginny looked slightly self-conscious as Harry turned to look at her. Her hair had been swept loosely away from her face, with the exception of the slight curls gently escaping from around the edges. The elegant blue-green robes sparkled slightly in the flickering light of the fire as she moved forward to meet him. "You look lovely, Ginny," said Harry, gulping slightly as he extended a hand to her.

"Likewise," she grinned at him, taking his hand without hesitation and leading him over to the portrait hole. They followed Ron and Hermione at a discreet distance, giggling slightly at how wrapped up the pair seemed in each other.

The evening passed much more pleasantly than the previous Yule Ball had. Conversing with his three closest friends during dinner was much more enjoyable than being stuck at the high table with no one to talk to but Percy and Parvati. Harry even found himself enjoying being dragged up onto the dance floor by Ginny as soon as Exploding Cauldron, the band Dumbledore had booked for the night, struck up the first tune. Perhaps, however, that was partially because he had been laughing so hard at Ron's resistance to dancing with Hermione.

Even Draco Malfoy's insinuations couldn't dampen Harry's spirits as Ginny kept him in stitches with her constant monologue about how the blond boy had been so desperate he had needed to invite a pug-dog to the ball. In the end, Harry and Ginny danced almost every dance, sitting down only once or twice to rest their aching feet and moisten their parched throats.

As the last song died away, Harry held Ginny closer to him than was strictly necessary for the dance. "I'm glad you asked me to the ball," he whispered in her ear. "I've had a wonderful night."

"So have I, Harry," said Ginny, almost so softly that he couldn't hear it. "More than you can imagine."

_To be continued..._


	34. Cho Chang

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 34: Cho Chang**

The holidays passed, as all holidays eventually do. The last week seemed to go so fast that Harry felt almost as though he had blinked on Sunday afternoon and suddenly it was Friday.

Harry had continued to hold Quidditch practice all through the holidays since the entire team, including the reserves, had stayed behind for the Christmas Ball. Their upcoming match against Ravenclaw was gnawing at Harry's mind. From what Colin had managed to find out from spying on their practices, Cho Chang seemed to be rather apathetic about Quidditch in general, much to the disgust of Roger Davies, the captain. However, since the Ravenclaw reserve Seeker had now finished at Hogwarts, Cho would have to play despite her distractions. According to Colin, however, the Ravenclaw Chasers, Beaters and Keeper more than made up for their poorer Seeker.

All the last minute strategies, warnings, and advice he had talked over with the team the morning of the match raced through Harry's mind as he stepped forward to shake Roger Davies' hand. He smiled and returned the other captain's nod confidently despite the quivering bundle of nerves lying in the pit of his stomach. Then he stepped back to join his team, mounted his broom and, "Pheeeep!" went Madam Hooch's whistle. They were off.

"Welcome to today's Quidditch match: Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw!" came Lee Jordan's magically magnified voice as Harry soared above the pitch, his nerves leaving him as usual in the thrill of flight. "Ravenclaw in possession, Chasers Levitt and Robinson passing the Quaffle between them as they close in on…"

Harry tuned out the commentary, trying to concentrate on finding the Snitch. Cho seemed to be trying to mark him rather than searching for the Snitch herself, but she was so far behind him that Harry couldn't feel her presence and had to keep looking back to check where she was.

A bellow from the crowd alerted Harry to the fact that Ravenclaw had just scored the first goal and he stared down at Ron, who was shaking his head and looking angry enough to kill. Obviously Colin had been right about the Ravenclaw team's form. Harry redoubled his efforts to search for the Snitch, zooming from one end of the pitch to the other, leaving poor Cho far behind.

The game progressed well for Gryffindor, although it was certainly close. By the time Harry caught his first sight of the Snitch the score was eighty-fifty: with Gryffindor thirty points in the lead. As the golden glitter of the Snitch caught his eye high up at the Ravenclaw end, Harry instinctively checked for Cho's position. She was far closer than he, but was hardly paying attention at all, so Harry settled for casually drifting towards the Snitch, making sure not to pay too much attention to one spot.

Obviously he hadn't been subtle enough because Davies looked shrewdly at the point his eyes kept returning to and made the connection. "Pay attention, Cho!" he roared. "It's over there!"

George, who had been about to beat a Bludger towards the Ravenclaw Keeper, altered his aim at the last minute, sending it towards Cho. Waking up for perhaps the first time in the game, Cho rolled out of the way of the oncoming Bludger just in time. Harry was forced to duck the other Bludger as the Ravenclaw Beaters sent it at his head. In the confusion, the Snitch disappeared.

The game turned in an instant. George seemed to have seriously sprained his wrist; when he changed his aim, his body had been set the wrong way to take the force of the Bludger. Harry called timeout and the team crowded around on the ground, looking dubiously at the swelling joint, even as George insisted that he could still Beat with his left hand.

The discussion was halted when Madam Pomfrey came over to check on him and sternly informed George that he was not allowed to continue playing. George tried to get back on his broom anyway, but Madam Hooch backed up Pomfrey. Apparently the Hogwarts Quidditch rules stated that if a player continued playing against medical advice, their team would forfeit the game. With one last glare at the two united teachers, George stalked over to the Gryffindor stand and sat down, fuming silently.

Since no substitutions were allowed once the game had begun, even for injuries, there was nothing for the Gryffindor team to do but take to the air again with one player down. The Ravenclaws took full advantage of their extra player and, while Fred darted over the pitch Beating like mad, he couldn't come close to managing both Bludgers by himself. Gryffindor began to slowly lose ground as Ron was forced to leave the goals unguarded to avoid the Bludgers that were being knocked towards him in perfect synchrony with the Ravenclaw Chasers' manoeuvres.

Harry growled in frustration as the Ravenclaw Chasers scored again, bringing the score to one hundred and thirty to ninety in favour of Ravenclaw. He needed to find the Snitch and he needed to find it soon. Cho, who was still making a vague attempt at marking him, rose with him as he moved high above the pitch and began searching in earnest. Far below him, level with the other players, as if summoned by his desperate wish for it to materialize, a golden glitter caught Harry's eye.

Harry dove straight downward, leaving Cho far above him within seconds, stretching his arm down as far as he could. Before any of the other players could even react, his fingers were brushing the fluttering wings of the Snitch below him and then he had it in his hand. As he pulled the Firebolt out of the steep dive and turned his face upwards to hold the Snitch up to his teammates, he saw the Bludger. Cho was staring down at him, her attention fully focussed on the tiny golden ball clutched in his hand.

Everything seemed to slow down, like a slow motion dream, as the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws alike screamed warnings to her, but she didn't hear; didn't notice; didn't move. The Bludger struck her directly on the back of the head. She swayed for a moment, then fell sideways off her broomstick and dropped like a stone.

Harry had only seconds to decide. He could move out of the way and hope that one of the teachers could slow her descent, like Dumbledore did for him in third year when he had been knocked unconscious by the Dementors, or…

He dove. Not quickly, like before, but just as steeply, keeping himself directly under the falling girl, moving downward at a slower rate than her. As her falling body caught up to him, he matched his speed to hers, so that they were travelling at exactly the same rate. Harry shoved the Snitch inside his robes, freeing one hand, and reached out to pull her awkwardly onto his broom in front of him. He gripped her waist tightly with his free arm as he attempted to pull the broom out of the steep dive. The Firebolt responded sluggishly, slowing their descent slightly, but protesting under the weight of two riders.

Harry strained backwards, pulling Cho firmly against him in an attempt to bring the balance further back on the broom, still desperately pulling trying to pull up with his other hand. Finally, mercifully, the broom responded. Bit by bit, their descent slowed and Harry landed with a bump on the grass just in front of the teachers' stand.

Madam Pomfrey was there in an instant, floating the unconscious Cho onto a conjured stretcher and bustling away towards the infirmary, the stretcher scurrying along in front of her like an errant child.

"Fifty points to Gryffindor, I think," said Dumbledore merrily, stepping off the stairs leading down from the teachers' stand. Snape and McGonagall were behind him. Snape's scowl could have melted a cauldron at fifty paces, while McGonagall seemed to be alternating between amazement and outrage. "Outstanding flying," continued Dumbledore, apparently unaware of his teachers' ire. "Much more effective than a Levitation Charm. Perhaps I should ask you to fly around near the ground at all our Quidditch matches?"

Harry stared at him blankly and Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Do you still have the Snitch?"

Harry nodded, feeling a strange, sticky wetness on his hand as he reached into his robes to pull out the Snitch. Feeling strangely detached, Harry reached out his hand and gave the Snitch to Dumbledore, then looked down at the front of his bright red Quidditch robes. There was a dark maroon patch staining the front just where – where Cho's head had lain on his shoulder. Blood.

***

"At that kiss, the princess quickly opened her eyes and wakened from her long, long sleep. Just then, the spell was broken. The princess rose to her feet, holding out her hand to the prince. The whole castle woke up, too. Everybody rose to their feet and they all stared round in amazement, wondering what had happened.

"A few days later, the castle that only a short time before had lain in silence, now rang with the sound of singing, music and happy laughter at the great party given in honour of the prince and princess, who were getting married.

"And they all lived happily ever after…"

Harry closed the book and looked down at Sally, whose eyes were shining with joy. "What do you say, Sally?" prompted Remus gently.

"Thank you, Harry," she said obediently. "Can we go visit Yoghurt?"

"If you like," said Harry. Sally jumped down from the bed and grabbed her warm winter cloak.

Fastening it rather haphazardly around her shoulders, she whirled to face Harry. "Ready!" she cried and Harry smiled at her affectionately.

"Then let's go!" he said, reaching out his hand to take hers.

"Hi, Harry," called George as they passed out into the main infirmary.

"George!" said Harry, going over to where he was sitting to inspect the tight strapping on his wrist. "How's it feeling?"

"I feel _fine_, but Madam Pomfrey says that I'm not allowed to fly for a week. 'You'll have to rest it _completely_ if you expect to play in the next game!'" he mimicked in a stern falsetto.

Harry groaned sympathetically, while Sally simply nodded sagely, saying, "The dragon-lady likes to rest things."

George burst out laughing and stooped down so that he was eye to eye with Sally. "The dragon-lady, eh? I can just imagine her breathing fire if she heard you calling her that! You look a bit short for Hogwarts, young lady. What are you doing here?"

"Mr. Remus saved me, so I'm staying here with him," she replied firmly.

"Voldemort killed her parents," sighed Harry. George stared down at Sally's innocent blue eyes in horror. "She's been staying here ever since, because she trusts Professor Lupin and she doesn't really have anywhere else to…"

They were interrupted by a snort from the other side of the infirmary. "And I thought you were spinning fairytales before!"

Cho Chang pulled herself out of bed and made her way towards them. A big bandage covered the back of her head, winding around her forehead and neck to make it stay on, but Harry breathed a sigh of relief to see that she was obviously okay. When he had come into the infirmary, she had been sleeping soundly, but looking as pale as death. Madam Pomfrey had assured him that she was going to be fine, but he was still relieved to see her up and about for himself.

"What does she mean about fairytales, Harry?" asked Sally, tugging on Harry's robe to make him squat down beside her.

Harry glanced up at Cho and then turned back to look Sally in the eyes. "She doesn't believe me about Voldemort."

Sally turned to Cho, her small face twisted with outrage. "My mummy and daddy _died_, just like my dog did when the car hit it. Do you believe _that_? The bad men appeared out of thin air right in the middle of _The Wizard of Oz_ and Mummy tried to send me off to bed, but one of the bad men caught me around the tummy. He wouldn't let me go! He made me watch as Vodelbort pointed his wand at Daddy and yelled something. An' then Daddy screamed."

Sally's voice choked up as she remembered her father's pain. "He screamed and cried and he was hurting so much and all I wanted to do was go over and help him but one of the bad men was holding me and Mummy was crying and struggling and watching him hurt Daddy. An' they laughed. The bad men _laughed_ at how Daddy was crying. Then Vodelbort pointed his wand at Daddy and yelled '_Abracadabra_!'" Cho flinched at the misshapen words of the Killing Curse. "Some green light shot out the end of his wand and when it hit him he fell down dead. Then he yelled '_Abracadabra_!' again and made my mummy dead as well. An' the bad men took me and locked me in a cage an'…"

Cho had been slowly retreating under the force of Sally's tirade. The feeling of her back hitting the wall startled Cho into whipping her wand out and suddenly Sally wasn't angry any more. She stared at the wand in sheer terror as she began to scream, "Mr. Remus! Help me, Mr. Remus!"

Harry snatched the little girl up into his arms, holding her close and whispering softly to her, barely hearing the crash from inside Remus' curtains. "You're safe now, no one's going to hurt you. Here you are, Mr. Remus is just in here." Harry rushed her back towards Remus, but as the curtain swished closed behind them, he looked back over his shoulder to meet Cho's eyes, which were filled with horror, shame and tears. Her wand dropped from nerveless fingers as she slowly slid down the wall to the floor.

Back inside the sanctuary of the curtains, Harry lowered Sally to the floor beside Remus, who had obviously been trying to reach the distressed child. In his weakened condition, however, his legs had simply given out from beneath him, leaving him puddled in a boneless looking heap on the floor. Sally flung herself at the prone man, clutching him and sobbing.

Harry sat on the floor beside them and shut his eyes, leaning the back of his head against the bed and letting Sally's terrified babble wash over him along with Remus' calm and sympathetic platitudes. If a Dementor _ever_ came near Sally and forced her to relive that attack, he was going to destroy it.

***

"You're serious, aren't you?"

Harry turned at the sound of Cho's voice. He had just been leaving the infirmary after helping Remus back into his bed. Sally's terror had slowly died down to the occasional sniffle until she finally fell silent asleep. Harry nodded solemnly to Cho, who was lying in her bed near the door of the infirmary, watching him carefully.

"I'm sorry that I didn't believe you before. I think that, in a way, I always knew that it wasn't you; I just needed someone to blame. I feel like such an idiot for not even believing _Dumbledore_ about You-Know-Who. That poor little girl! Is she all right?"

Harry nodded again. "She'll be fine. She's got Remus there to look after her, so he'll make sure she's all right. I thought she deserved to know the truth about why her parents died, so I told her all about Voldemort," Cho flinched, "coming back.

"I'm really sorry about Cedric, you know," Harry continued. "I blamed myself for his death for ages, before I realised that there was really nothing that I could have done. He wanted me to take the cup for myself, but I thought that he deserved it more than I did. He wouldn't take it, no matter how much I tried to tell him. I didn't know that suggesting we take it together would lead him straight to his death."

Cho smiled slightly through her tears. "I remember that set he used to get in his jaw when someone asked him to do something that he thought was wrong. He would completely refuse to change his mind."

"He was the perfect Hufflepuff," said Harry quietly. "Loyal and hardworking. He didn't want to take the credit for something he didn't think he deserved."

"He was," she said softly. "What happened, Harry? I always thought that no one would ever tell me the truth, but now I realise that I've probably had it right before me all the time. Can you tell me?"

"I could," said Harry, "but I've got a better idea. You're probably still a little unsure about it all, so would you like me to show you, so that you know I'm not lying to you?"

Cho smiled weakly. "That sounds like a very good idea, Harry. What would you suggest?"

"Well, I've got a Pensieve. I could put my memory of that night into it and then you could watch it."

"A _Pensieve_?" breathed Cho. "Really?"

"I'll bring it in tomorrow evening, if you'll still be here," said Harry. Cho nodded eagerly. "But in the meantime, could you do me a favour?"

Cho looked at him suspiciously. "What is it?"

"If Draco Malfoy comes in here to talk to you again, could you just not talk to him?"

"Who?" asked Cho, seemingly puzzled. "Oh! The Slytherin Seeker? Blonde boy who seems to think that he rules the world because his dad's rich?" Harry nodded, smirking at this description. "I doubt he'll want to talk to me. Last time I talked to him our conversation didn't end so well for him."

"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously. "Did you curse him or something?"

"Well – do you remember that day I yelled at you by the lake? Sorry about that, by the way, but he followed me and started going on about how his father could do something to bring Cedric back if I helped him out. Of course I knew that he was lying; I'm not stupid. He was probably trying to get me to help him with his homework or something, I don't know. I was too angry to think straight and I'm Muggle-born, so I didn't even think about cursing him. I – um – kneed him quite hard in the groin." Cho looked a little abashed as Harry winced in sympathy. Sure, Draco Malfoy was his enemy, but there were some things that you didn't wish on anyone short of Voldemort.

"I heard from a friend," Cho continued with a wicked little smile, "that he cancelled Quidditch practice for a week after that. Claimed that he was too busy with schoolwork – but that was only a month before their match against Gryffindor, so I have my doubts…"

Harry was unable to resist laughing at that. "Ah well," he said diplomatically, "at last you're channelling your anger in a constructive way; if you keep it up Slytherin won't have a hope for the Quidditch Cup!"

Harry whistled all the way back to Gryffindor Tower, absolutely delighted that his suspicions about Cho had been entirely wrong. Hermione, however, was horrified when he pulled her, Ron, and Ginny aside to tell them the good news. "Then who is it?" she gasped. "If it's not Cho, then _who is it_?"

_To be continued..._


	35. A Kiss

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 35: A Kiss**

As the months passed and the O.W.Ls grew closer, they had no luck in determining who might be the spy. Things had been amazingly quiet on the Voldemort front. Harry surmised, with great trepidation, that either Voldemort's plans were going so well that he never got angry enough to draw Harry's dreams to him or he was waiting for something. He wasn't quite sure which of them would be worse.

The break from worrying about Voldemort was a blessing, since the teachers began to pile on huge amounts of work in preparation for the O.W.Ls. Harry could never remember working on schoolwork so hard in his life and Hermione seemed almost as exhausted as she had in their third year. Even Ron had buckled down and began serious revision for the O.W.Ls, although he still made every effort to drag Hermione away from her books for half an hour at least once a day.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was the most intense. Professor Figg piled on theoretical essays more than ever and their reading list grew to almost a foot long, although the class stayed purely practical. Before going on to learning how to shield other people, the class studied Energescalators. Without one of these rare objects, which simply amplified the power of the witch or wizard using it, it would be impossible for most of the class to learn to shield others as they barely had enough power to shield themselves. The school had provided a small collection for the use of the class, ranging from palm-sized cubes marked with runes to miniature statues – even a perfectly ordinary looking flat stone. Soon they all got used to collecting one out of the pile of strange objects on Professor Figg's desk at the beginning of each lesson, examining it quickly, and moving straight into the lesson.

Most of the Energescalators the class used were quite small, although Figg warned them not to think that this was always the case. Harry almost fell off his seat when she informed them that the most powerful Energescalator in the northern hemisphere was Stonehenge, although he was almost the only one in the class to be surprised. Ron stared at him as though he couldn't think of what else Harry could have thought it was, Hermione hissed that the relic had been fundamental to Dumbledore's defeat of Grindelwald in 1945, and Malfoy rolled his eyes at Harry in a superior manner.

They spent several lessons learning to draw their power through the Energescalators, while their partners attempted to break their shields or their concentration. Harry was even more surprised than he had been upon learning that Stonehenge had a real purpose when he examined the ring he was to be using as an Energescalator in the last of these lessons. It was made of two strands, one of gold and the other of black enamel, twisted together like rope. Tiny emeralds studded the band around the entire ring, tucked in between the strands here and there. When Harry held it in his hand, he was suffused with a warm, loving feeling, much like that he felt when he held his mother's ring, although the overwhelming sadness was missing. He was quite disappointed when he drew up his shield with it and felt only the slightest increase in power.

The next time Harry put up his shield, instead of focussing on the ring he held in his hand, he thought of the silver ring that hung warm against his chest, remembering the scales on the snake and flashing emerald eyes as he pushed up his shield. Suddenly Harry was filled with more power than he had ever experienced before; he could feel electricity sparking between the hairs on his arms, the crackling in the air, and, distracted, he let the shield fall almost immediately. Parvati watched him curiously, her wand still raised to cast a curse to check his shield. "That was weird," she said. "It looked much better than anything you've ever done. Do you think you can do it again?"

Harry shrugged, but quickly decided to do his experimentation with his mother's ring in his own time, not wanting to share his discovery with Parvati of all people. By the time class ended, Parvati had forgotten all about the one extra-strong shield Harry had produced near the beginning. Harry, however, felt that he needed to talk to someone.

After waiting for all the other students to leave and telling Ron and Hermione that he'd catch up with them, Harry approached the teacher's desk. "Professor Figg?" he ventured softly, holding up his Energescalator. "Is this a Promise Ring?" Figg looked at him in surprise.

"Yes," she finally replied, taking the ring from him and rolling it in her wrinkled hand before slipping it back on with her wedding rings. "I made it with my late husband. We were short one Energescalator, so I slipped it into the pile. How did you recognise it? Not many people your age know much about Promise Rings."

Harry debated briefly, then pulled the silver ring out from under his robes by the leather cord. "I've got my mum's," he replied.

"Put it away!" Figg cried sharply. Harry instantly tucked it back inside his robes, slightly hurt at her reaction. "How many people know that you have this ring, Harry?" she asked seriously.

"Uh," said Harry unsurely, "my three closest friends and now you."

"Good," she replied firmly. "_Do not let anyone else know about it_. A Promise Ring will only give a small power increase to most people, but it gives a ten-fold boost to its creator or even more in some special circumstances, although I can't imagine that would apply to you. The thing is – and I know that Dumbledore explained the basics of blood magic to you after we discovered your most astonishing level of power – the rings work reasonably well with blood relations. The magnification factor increases as the relationship of the user to the original creator of the ring gets closer. Seeing as it's your mother's ring, I'm guessing that it would roughly double your power, which is far beyond anything achievable from any other portable Energescalator.

"That means," Figg continued intensely, "that you can probably hold out for about twice as long as Voldemort expects if you ever get into a sticky situation again. Given your considerable base level of power, that may well be long enough to exhaust your assailants or give you time to escape some other way. That ring is probably now your single greatest advantage over Voldemort, Harry, and even more so as long as it is a secret."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, puzzled.

"Mr. Figg and I were one of the most senior teams of Aurors during what the Muggles called the Second World War. Our first major victory in 1943 started to turn the tide of the war, but it would never have happened if Grindelwald had known about our rings. He would never have attacked us in the particular way he did if he had known. If your enemy finds out your secret weapon he will take it into account in his planning and find a way to offset its usefulness."

"That makes sense," said Harry, nervously patting the small lump where his mother's ring lay under his robes. "I promise; I won't tell anyone unless it's necessary."

Figg cast him a shrewd look as he added the qualification. "You should have been a Slytherin, Harry." Harry blinked at the odd comment, remembering what Hermione had said about how Professor Figg had been a Slytherin, but the elderly witch lazily flapped her hand at him. "Now, get on with you or you'll be late to your next class!"

***

The Defence Against the Dark Arts class learned to extend their shields to protect other people in the final weeks before they began revision of previous years' material for the O.W.L.s. Even Harry, whose huge level of power made things much easier for him in this class, found this extremely hard because of the complexity of the focus required. Using emotions to manipulate raw magic meant that he had to balance four different thoughts and feelings, not allowing any single emotion to overshadow the others. To raise his shield in the first place, he had to concentrate with all his might on being frightened or angry to allow access to his raw magic. The moulding of the borders of the shield was more complex, given that he had to mould the shield around the bodies of the people he was protecting. He also had to focus on pulling the energy _through_ the Energescalator and deal with the distraction of the extra power. Finally, while holding hands with the people he was meant to be shielding, he had to concentrate on the connection he felt to them and his desire to protect them.

Harry found it easy enough to find reasons to shield Ron and Hermione, but when Professor Figg asked them to rotate through people that they would not normally consider close friends, it became more difficult. Harry's shield flickered up around Dean Thomas as he remembered the celebration after the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, when Dean had decorated the common room with drawings of his battle with the Hungarian Horntail. Neville was also easy to shield as Harry remembered him winning the ten points that had won the House Cup for Gryffindor at the end of first year. Harry even managed a weak shield over both Crabbe and Goyle, remembering how useful they had been when he and Ron had used their hair in a Polyjuice Potion to pump Malfoy for information in second year.

Malfoy, however, was impossible. As Harry moved over to pair with him, the blonde boy extended his hand to Harry in a gesture not dissimilar to the offer of friendship he had made on the train in their first year. The glitter of malice in his eyes, however, made it very different. Harry grasped his extended hand sideways so it could not possibly be construed as shaking hands, closed his eyes, and tried to think of a reason he wanted to protect Malfoy. That was where the problem came. Harry couldn't raise even a glimmer of a shield around the other boy. He was about to give up, and almost released Malfoy's hand in frustration, when he realised that under his sneer, Malfoy looked incredibly flattered that Harry couldn't think of a single good thing about him. Harry gritted his teeth and tried harder, searching his memory for something good that had come from Malfoy.

Malfoy scowled as Harry's shield flashed to life around him. "What did I do?" he asked grumpily.

"Bouncing ferret!" grinned Harry. "We'll need a good laugh every now and then to keep up our spirits in the war against Voldemort and I'm sure that the Amazing Bouncing Ferret will be providing us with laughter for years to come." Malfoy looked as though he wanted to whip out his wand and curse Harry, but Harry was still holding his right hand. Harry simply grinned at the other boy and let his shield drop from both of them, but didn't let go of the other boy's hand. "Your turn!" he announced cheerfully.

***

Harry was still grinning that he was one up on Malfoy when he returned to his room that evening. Ginny was lying on the bed, doing what looked like Charms homework as she lazily kicked her legs in the air. "Want one?" she asked through a mouthful of biscuit, indicating the plate full of custard creams on the bedside table.

Snagging a biscuit from the plate, Harry went to put his books away. He pulled out his books for the afternoon's Transfiguration study session with Hermione, groaning at the thought of writing up his essay on the concepts involved in the Transfiguration of simple objects into more complex ones and munching absent-mindedly on his custard cream.

He whirled at the sound of Ginny bursting into gales of laughter, hardly noticing his books dropping to the floor as he tried to ask her what was so funny, but only heard a series of twittering noises come out of his beak. Wait. Beak?

Harry stalked, or perhaps waddled, over to the mirror and stared at himself, unable to believe that Ginny had tricked him into accepting a Canary Cream. Hadn't she been eating one, though?

He turned to look at her in confusion, but she pulled out the drawer of the bedside table and indicated a box of custard creams that looked identical to those on top of the bedside table. "These," she choked out between peals of laughter, "are from the kitchen." She pushed the drawer back in and indicated the plate on the table. "These were part of my Christmas present from Fred and George. I'll have to tell them all about this!" she hooted. "They've been most upset that they've never managed to get you with one of their Wheezes!"

"You little monster!" cried Harry as the last of his feathers fell out. "I'll get you for this!"

Ginny shrieked with laughter. "You'll have to catch me first!" she cried, leaping off the bed and dashing for the door to the common room.

"_Obfirmimpri_!" Harry cried, pointing his wand at the door and listening to the satisfying click as it locked, unable now to be opened by anyone but him. Ginny flattened herself against the now-locked door, unable to get out, as Harry menacingly stalked towards her. Her eyes darted left and right, looking for an escape, but Harry was having none of that.

"_Accio Ginny_!" he cried playfully and was somewhat surprised to see that it actually worked as Ginny came flying at him against her will, bowling him over onto the bed. With the ease of much practice, Harry rolled them over so that he pinned her hands over her head and reached down to her stomach to tickle her into submission.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as their eyes locked. It had never really occurred to Harry that Ginny was an attractive young woman. But with her eyes alight with happiness and mischief, her hair a flaming red halo in the candlelight, all of a sudden she seemed to glow. Ginny was… Ginny was _beautiful_.

The air seemed to have turned to treacle; Harry couldn't move, couldn't speak. He felt intoxicated by her very presence: her warm brown eyes, staring up at him with affection and mirth; the adorable dusting of freckles over her nose and around the rest of her face; the sweet point on her throat where he could see her pulse softly throbbing. Ginny's short golden lashes swept down over her eyes, lying nestled against her cheek as Harry felt his face drifting closer and closer to hers.

Harry's eyes were still wide open as he felt her breath fanning over his lips and he felt like he could almost expire at the intimacy. "You're so beautiful," he whispered wonderingly and her eyes sprang open again, wide with surprise. He could see something glowing in the warm brown depths and he didn't wait for her reply, letting his own eyes flutter closed, almost of their own volition, as he closed the tiny gap that remained between them.

Then their lips touched softly and the world dissolved. All that existed was Harry, Ginny, and the dizzying swirl of sensation and emotion that they were drowning in so sweetly that Harry never wanted to breathe again. Their lips moved against each other softly, gently, and so tenderly that Harry couldn't tell where he stopped and Ginny began, who was who, or who was moving. It was perfect.

His mind was screaming at him through the numb haze of wonder and, when Harry finally discerned the words, they lanced through him like an icy knife. _Mr. and Mrs. Weasley! DUMBLEDORE! They trusted you! _Harry leapt away from Ginny as though burned and staggered over to sit in a chair on the far side of the room.

The silence was deafening. Ginny finally spoke. "Harry?" she ventured very cautiously.

"I'm, uh, sorry," Harry stammered nervously. "I shouldn't have done that."

Ginny closed her eyes and looked as though she was about to cry. Harry forced himself to keep watching her, making himself see the pain he had caused her by his complete idiocy. He had betrayed Dumbledore, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but most of all, he had betrayed Ginny, who had trusted him to behave like a gentleman.

Her brow furrowed, as she seemed to screw up all her Gryffindor courage to whisper, "I'm not," in a voice he would hardly have heard if he hadn't seen her lips move. He looked away, unable to stand it any more.

"I'm not sorry," she repeated, louder, seemingly gaining courage from the repetition of this statement, "and I don't think you should be either. I know that everyone thinks it's just a stupid crush, but it's much more than that, Harry. Whatever it is, though, I'm sick of blushing and hiding behind doors and I'm not going to apologise for it anymore."

Harry stared at her. There was an oily smudge on his glasses that he suspected was from Ginny's nose brushing against them, but suddenly his heart was racing and it felt a bit like he had swallowed a Snitch. If it _wasn't_ just a crush, then… What on earth did she _mean_? No, this wasn't the time.

"That's not…" he started, then slumped back into his chair again, trying desperately to make Ginny understand. "That's not what I meant. I'm not sorry about what we did. I think – I know – I like you as more than a friend. And _that's_ what I'm sorry about because it means that we're going to have to move out of here. It means that your nightmares are going to come back and so are mine." Ginny started to protest, but he shook his head, frustration and anger starting to take over from the wonderful fluttery feeling that had begun in his stomach when he realised that Ginny didn't regret what they had done.

"But that's not all. Most importantly, it means that you're not going to be able to draw out my visions into the Pensieve. It means that I might not be able to warn people about what Voldemort's going to do because I might forget some crucial detail." Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration, stood up and began to pace. He was angry – angry with Voldemort for making his situation so ridiculous that he wasn't allowed to be with Ginny and angry with himself for feeling this way despite the consequences. His skin tingled as he balled his hands up into fists, his fingernails cutting into the skin of his palms.

"Don't you understand, Ginny?" he pleaded. "People might _die_ because of this! And you _can't_ tell me that that isn't my fault!"

Ginny's face took on a stricken expression as she took in the full consequences of the sudden change in their friendship. "We…" she started hesitantly, "we don't _have_ to tell Dumbledore…"

Harry shook his head sharply. "He specifically asked us to make sure to tell him if things changed. I won't betray his trust like that. If there's one thing I've learned over the past five years it's that hiding anything from Dumbledore is always the biggest mistake you can make.

"Not only that, but it wouldn't only be Dumbledore we'd be lying to, it would be your family, too. Their approval means the world to me. The Dursleys drummed it into me that I was a worthless freak, so I can never be quite sure whether my own parents would be proud of me. I hope they would be. But I know that your parents are proud of me and I'm not sure what I'd do without that."

Harry pulled his glasses off and buried his face in his hands, rage, frustration and despair battling for dominance in his mind and he found himself trembling with the force of his emotions. He couldn't even feel happy about this situation because of Voldemort!

He found his hands being pulled away from his face and looked down to see Ginny kneeling in front of him. The anger melted out of him with a slight shiver as he looked down into her warm brown eyes and serious expression. Her hands held his wrists gently, but somehow Harry couldn't even begin to consider pulling away to hide behind his hands again.

Ginny leaned forward slowly and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "You're right," she nodded. "We have to tell Dumbledore. But can you honestly say that you don't think that he knew or at least suspected that this was going to happen? If it is a matter of life and death, as you say, I don't think that Dumbledore will let anything get in the way of people's lives. Even if it means allowing two young people to sleep together when they obviously _don't_ feel platonically about one another. He would never split us up if it endangered innocent lives or gave too much of an advantage to Voldemort. And even if it did, _it wouldn't be your fault_!"

***

To Harry's surprise, it did turn out to be fine. Dumbledore seemed relatively undaunted by Harry's worries about missing visions of Voldemort, merely offering his congratulations and surprise that it hadn't happened sooner. He allayed their fears by informing them that he had another way of observing Voldemort's gatherings that had been just as effective up to this point. It had been over three months since Harry had had a dream anyway and although it was always good to have a backup, it would not give Voldemort too much of an advantage if Harry could not remember a great deal about his visions. Harry just nodded, his suspicions that Snape was spying for Dumbledore confirmed.

Ginny moved back to her own dormitory that evening while Harry stayed in the Head dormitory to prevent the nightmares he might have from disturbing the others. Dumbledore suggested that, although the closeness he had felt with Ginny had been most effective at suppressing both their nightmares, there might be another way without resorting to addictive sleeping potions.

He thought that, if Harry extracted his dreams into the Pensieve immediately, it could help him cope. It worked, at least partially. Extracting the dream dulled the memory of it, which allowed him to get back to sleep immediately instead of lying awake with his heart racing. His nightmares seemed to be less frequent than they had been and less serious, because he wasn't waking up screaming anymore. Instead, his dreams began to be filled with images of a ticklish, laughing, beautiful redhead who cared when he was upset, taught him to dance, laughed at him eating ice cream, stole the covers, and fed him Canary Creams. The nightmares had a hard time competing with that.

The problem Harry was most worried about was telling Ron about the new development in their relationship, but, to his surprise, Ginny took care of that. Harry had been working on some revision in the middle of the common room when Ginny sat down beside him and began snuggling. She waited, grinning mischievously, for the quick whispers to pass around until all the occupants of Gryffindor Tower were surreptitiously observing them. Harry's eyes widened in shock and he leaned back almost imperceptibly as she planted a kiss directly on his lips.

Fred and George immediately broke out into applause, but Ron just stared and Hermione's knuckles went white as she gripped his arm painfully. Harry flinched, bracing himself for the full older brother routine, but Ginny calmly leaned closer to Ron. "I'm my own person, Ron," she said in a deadly whisper, "able to make my own choices and don't you forget it. If don't have the sense to keep your mouth shut about this, I'll owl Mum and tell her all about what I saw you doing with Hermione behind the greenhouses on Sunday night."

Ron blanched, turning an awfully pasty shade, his mouth opening and shutting uselessly like a goldfish out of water. "Ginny!" Hermione shrieked, drawing every eye in the common room to them. "You wouldn't!"

"No," Ron hurried to assure his girlfriend, "she would, but she won't because I won't say anything. Um… Congratulations, Harry, mate. You too, Ginny." Then he stood up and walked away, the back of his neck a brilliant red. Hermione added her congratulations to Ron's and followed her boyfriend out the portrait hole, presumably to ensure that he didn't do any permanent harm to irreplaceable Hogwarts equipment or himself.

Harry felt sure it must have been his imagination, but he could have sworn that Hermione had _winked_ at Ginny before she raced off after Ron.

_To be continued..._


	36. Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 36: Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff**

With Harry's new relationship and preparation for the O.W.Ls, it got to be the night before the final Quidditch match before it really sunk in that he would be playing against Cedric's old team: Hufflepuff. Harry tried not to brood, concentrating on the rest of the team. Gryffindor was in the running for the Quidditch Cup once again. He brought the team over to talk in the common room after practice, using Oliver's old model of the Quidditch pitch to quickly run over tactics and their general game plan before advising everyone to go to bed early and following his own advice.

Harry was awake again after only an hour, raised by a nightmare of Cedric choking to death in a swarm of Snitches and then falling from his broom into the flock of Dementors below. Extracting it to the Pensieve dulled the memory slightly, but Harry's pre-match nerves seemed to have started early and he couldn't relax enough to get back to sleep. He lay awake for another hour before he gave up and walked back out to the common room to find it almost deserted. Only Ginny was still up, with several large books spread on the table around her, staring down at a large roll of parchment in front of her, quill poised, but doing no writing.

"What are you doing?" asked Harry softly, sitting down beside her.

"Potions!" she groaned, throwing her quill down and flexing her aching hand before turning to pull Harry into a brief kiss. "My Wit-Sharpening Potion exploded today. It was my fault – I added the cup of armadillo bile before the teaspoon of water."

"Oh no!" groaned Harry. "Mouse bile was bad enough when Neville made that mistake in second year and that's much less acidic than armadillo bile!"

Ginny nodded glumly. "It was completely stupid. I'm usually pretty good at Potions, but something Malfoy said when I was on my way to class just distracted me. I ignored him well enough, but being called a – well, what he called me – just made me mad for a while. I think Snape took particular offence to the explosion because I didn't get hit, but it sent two Slytherins to the hospital wing with burns. I have to write four feet on dealing with bile safely by tomorrow morning or I can't go to the Quidditch match."

Harry grimaced. "Snape's such a git! There's no way you can find four feet on something like that, no matter how big your handwriting is – and it looks like you're keeping yours fairly small."

"It is a bit harsh," shrugged Ginny, "but I could have seriously injured myself or someone else with a mistake like that, so I can kind of understand. And I think that one of the reasons Snape usually likes me is because I keep my handwriting small, pay attention, and take it seriously when I make a mistake. Fair or not, though, I've got to finish this essay and I can't find anything more!"

"I remember Neville had the same problem," Harry nodded. "Hermione found him a book in the library on Muggle chemistry that gave him another foot – how much more do you need?"

Ginny unrolled her scroll quickly and measured it. "Eleven inches. Oh, Harry, that's a great idea! I had no idea Muggles worked with bile! I'll just…" She looked around the common room and seemed surprised to see that everyone else had gone to bed. "The library's shut, isn't it?"

"I'll just grab the Invisibility Cloak and the map," said Harry, "and we'll go down there and get it."

"But it must be really late, Harry!" said Ginny. "You need to be in bed or you'll be asleep on your broom tomorrow."

"I want you to come to the match," insisted Harry. "And to do that you need that book. I'll be back in a second."

When Harry got back with the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map, Ginny's face was set. "Go back to bed, Harry," she said firmly. "You don't mind if I borrow the cloak and map do you? I'll be really careful and give them both back in mint condition tomorrow. You need to get some sleep."

Harry stared at her reluctantly, but it seemed she wouldn't be moved. "All right," he said finally. "You'll need to know what to look up; Muggles don't work with bile, they work with straight acids because they don't need the magical properties of the animal. You'll find it in a book on chemistry." He spelled it for her and she scribbled it down on a scrap of parchment.

"Right," said Ginny. "Chemistry, acids. Thanks, Harry!"

She went to swirl on the Invisibility Cloak, but Harry caught her arm. "I'm sorry I didn't know about what happened with Malfoy; I was so focussed on this Quidditch game, I haven't even spoken to you today. What did he say?"

"Oh, Harry," she said softly, putting her arms around him and holding him close. Harry took a deep breath, relishing the feeling of being so close to her. "It doesn't matter. _He _doesn't matter. Don't worry about it. I know you're upset about playing Hufflepuff. You shouldn't be, though. Cedric wouldn't have wanted his house to have an advantage because you're staying up torturing yourself. _Especially_ when it's not your fault!" With that, she put on the cloak and vanished. Harry heard her softly activating the map before the portrait hole swung open and shut and she was gone.

***

The crowd roared as Harry stepped onto the pitch with his team. He had managed to get a good night's sleep in the end and he was thoroughly glad because it seemed like everyone in the school had turned up to this game. All the Slytherins were there, wearing Hufflepuff rosettes and looking utterly disgusted with themselves. The Ravenclaws seemed to be evenly split over Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Harry wiped his hand nervously before stepping forward to shake hands with Anthony Goldstein, the new Hufflepuff Captain. Goldstein's handshake was firm and the faces of the Hufflepuff team were set in determined expressions. Harry shook back firmly and nodded to Owen Cauldwell, Hufflepuff's new Seeker. Then he was in the air and thoughts of Cedric vanished.

Harry swooped and soared over the pitch, putting all his attention into searching for the Snitch, ignoring his team and Lee Jordan's commentary. This was Quidditch. Hufflepuff was just another team. It had nothing to do with Cedric Diggory.

The game had hardly started when Harry's eye caught a golden flash near the Hufflepuff goals and, since he was much closer than Cauldwell, he instantly swung his broom around to chase after it. Before he could even move towards it, however, a sudden pain shot through his forehead and Harry released his broom to clutch at his scar. Harry wrenched his hand away from his scar and forced his eyes open. "Time out!" he cried desperately to Madam Hooch, who immediately blew her whistle to indicate the stop of play. Instead of following the rest of his team to the ground, however, Harry flew straight over to the teachers' stand, where Professor Dumbledore was watching the game, and landed in front of the headmaster.

"Sir," he panted, "I need to talk to you."

"Potter, it's only Hufflepuff," sneered Professor Snape from his position beside Dumbledore. "You can't be _that_ desperate to get out of the game!" Snape quietened as Dumbledore shot him a quelling glance and the headmaster led Harry down to the front of the box where no one could overhear them.

"What is it?" he asked softly.

"It's my scar," whispered Harry, rubbing at it frantically. "It feels like it's on fire! This has never happened to me while I was awake, except for when Voldemort was really close!"

Dumbledore looked grave for a few moments. "I do not know what to say, Harry. I shall ask the teachers to check that the wards of Hogwarts have not been broached. I do believe, however, that Professor Snape has an excellent point in that you should attempt to continue playing before you draw attention to yourself. We do not want to alert Voldemort to the fact that you can see what he is doing. If you deduce any further details, let Madam Hooch know and it will be instantly passed on to me.

"Now, we cannot have anyone associating your discussion with me with your scar. I'm sure that you can think of a reasonable reason that you needed to stop the match to talk to me, but you will surely find it difficult to play whilst you are in such pain. You say it is a burning feeling?" Harry nodded. "I cannot maintain a healing charm from that distance, but it could be that a cooling charm could provide you with some relief. Hold still."

Harry closed his eyes as the headmaster drew his wand, whispering "_Frigido_" and brushing the suddenly ice-cold wand over Harry's forehead. The burning sensation lessened to a bearable level and Harry heaved a sigh of relief, nodding his thanks to Dumbledore before he jumped back on his broom to fly down to join his teammates.

"What was that all about?" demanded Angelina impatiently. "What were you doing with Dumbledore?"

"Look," said Harry, thinking quickly and putting on a slightly embarrassed air, "I'm still having a bit of trouble over Cedric." Well, it was the truth! "I saw him die, right in front of me, and now I'm playing opposite his replacement. It's just a bit… odd." Ron looked dubious, opening his mouth to say something, but Harry shook his head almost imperceptibly and his friend quietened down. The rest of the team nodded sympathetically. "I'm all right now," he said with a feigned sigh. "Let's just get back up in the air."

Ron stayed on the ground after the others had leaped back into the air, so Harry leaned in close and hissed, "It's my scar, but Dumbledore doesn't want anyone to know. Don't worry about it, let's just play Quidditch." Ron nodded comfortingly and followed his teammates into the air.

The pain in Harry's scar seemed to ebb and flow as the game continued, distracting him with a sudden stabbing pain at the most inopportune times. It was a good thing the rest of the team worked so well without his supervision because Harry could hardly focus on trying to find the Snitch, let alone direct the rest of the team. He felt a brief stab of guilt as he mused how lucky he was that the Cauldwell was such an inexperienced Seeker, remembering the reason Hufflepuff had needed a new one, but ruthlessly pushed it away. Ginny was right; Cedric would have hated to think that Hufflepuff had been given an unfair advantage.

He faintly heard that Hufflepuff had scored their first goal, bringing the scores to fifty-ten in favour of Gryffindor, as another pain lanced through his scar. He shut his eyes against the pain and when he opened them again, he saw Cauldwell racing towards him with all the speed he could muster from his Nimbus 2001. The Snitch was directly between them.

Harry put on a burst of speed, racing straight towards the other Seeker. Cauldwell faltered slightly, his eyes widening with surprise, before they narrowed and he leant closer to the handle of his broom and urged it on, straight towards Harry. Faintly hearing the crowd gasp as it seemed inevitable that the two Seekers would collide, Harry reached out one hand to snatch the Snitch out of the air and immediately wrenched the Firebolt upwards to avoid a collision. There was a rush of wind as Cauldwell passed beneath him and Harry let out a sigh of relief as the fluttering wings of the Snitch stilled inside his hand.

As Harry relaxed the concentration he didn't even know he'd been holding so hard, his scar began to burn in earnest, feeling like it was on fire despite Dumbledore's cooling charm. His body convulsed involuntarily and, as his head lightened with the pain and his vision started to become strangely blurred, Harry threw his arms desperately around his broomstick to hold on before the vision began.

A horribly familiar place swam into focus, overlaid with what he saw around him and Harry closed his eyes to block out the conflicting view of the Quidditch pitch. What he saw was not the forest where Voldemort met with his followers. Not the old house where Voldemort had killed that old Muggle and tortured Wormtail. Not even the graveyard where Voldemort's father was buried. It was The Burrow.

Two Death Eaters, standing in front of the stove holding a pot of something that was beginning to smoke, held Mrs. Weasley. One held her arms behind her back, the other the tip of his wand to her head. Harry identified the one holding her arms as Lucius Malfoy, not only from the lock of white-blonde hair protruding from behind his mask, but from his voice as he the muttered a stream of filth in her ear. "Disgraces to the wizarding world… you and your husband both. Living in squalor like this! How many of those children of yours did you get while out whoring for food, eh? Fancy giving us a ride?" Mrs. Weasley's face was bright red with rage as she struggled violently to get away from her captor, paying no heed to the wand at her temple. Malfoy unconcernedly poked his tongue out through the mouth-hole in his mask and licked her cheek, obviously enjoying her humiliation. Harry looked away in disgust.

On the other side of the kitchen, his lip split and bleeding, stood Mr. Weasley, similarly restrained by one Death Eater while another held a wand to his head. His eyes were unfocussed and he swayed slightly, although Harry couldn't tell if he had injured his head or if it was the result of some spell.

"He is here! I can feel him," hissed Voldemort, diverting Harry's attention from the captured Weasleys. If the Dark Lord had been angry in any of Harry's other visions, it was nothing to compare to this. Voldemort was _furious_. Not just frustrated at some disruption of his plans, but truly enraged – at the world, which refused to lie down and let him conquer it, at his father, who had abandoned his mother to die and himself to a Muggle orphanage, at Muggles in general, at Dumbledore, at Harry for putting him out of action for thirteen years. Harry felt drawn in, sucked towards the vortex of dark emotions, despite the fact that the fury felt somehow unreal. Almost… _forced_. As though Voldemort had been working himself up into a murderous rage on purpose…

"_Harry Potter!_" Voldemort cried to the ceiling, twirling his wand to point at Mrs. Weasley, and Harry knew that his suspicions had been correct. "All you have to do is surrender yourself to me and I will no longer go out of my way to kill those who are important to you. Now watch the first of them die! _Avada Kedavra!_" Mr. Weasley, realising that his wife's end had come, shook himself out of his trance, sheer desperation showing on his face. With a violent wrench, he broke free from the wizards restraining him and stumbled towards the woman he loved more than life.

He reached her just as Voldemort finished the fatal words, attempting to shield her with his own body. Mrs. Weasley lurched forward frantically, attempting to knock her husband to the ground and protect him from the curse. Malfoy, who had been holding Mrs. Weasleys' arms, fell forward with her, losing his footing at her sudden movement. The three adults were falling to the ground… All three instinctively raised shields and flinched as the powerful curse cut through them like tissue paper, falling, falling.

The stream of green light connected with something and the vision vanished as his scar exploded in pain, signifying the fact that somebody had died. Harry's eyes snapped open and, suddenly realising that he was only a few feet from the ground, he tried to pull out of the suicidal dive he found himself in, wrenching the broom handle up and loosening his grip. A levitation spell surrounded him, probably cast by one of the teachers, but hadn't helped a great deal because the way he had grasped his broom had urged it to accelerate towards the ground. The Firebolt instantly responded to his change in grip, slowing to almost a halt several feet above the ground.

Leaning back and surrendering to the floating feeling of the levitation charm, Harry rolled off his broom to land on his hands and knees. As he emptied his stomach onto the grass below him, a strangely detached part of him wondered who had died. _Died_, Harry's brain repeated numbly. _One of them was dead._

Harry's stomach heaved again as he remembered the absolute anguish on the faces of the couple, convinced as they had been that the other was going to die. Soft thuds sounded as the team landed on the grass around him. The worried faces of the Weasley twins appeared above him, miming something unintelligible to Harry, and the strangely detached part of him observed that the twins had their father's nose and their mother's eyes. It could have been Lucius Malfoy who had died, Harry tried to convince himself. It seemed awful to wish that the Malfoy's father was dead, even if he was a Death Eater, but it was better than Mr. or Mrs. Weasley.

"_Accio Pensieve!_" cried Professor Dumbledore, who had appeared beside him so fast that it almost seemed as though he had Apparated. Harry felt the familiar feeling of the memories being drawn out of his mind, leaving him with hardly more than a dull recollection of the events in the dream. Harry realised, deep down inside, that he must be in shock as his stomach heaved again and his mind laughed at him, scolding him in a voice that sounded remarkably like Hermione's that of course Dumbledore couldn't have Apparated because you couldn't Apparate or Disapparate on Hogwarts' grounds.

Voldemort had killed someone. And whether it was Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, or Malfoy, it didn't change the fact that it was his fault.

***

Madam Pomfrey released Harry from the infirmary that evening with a cloth soaked with pain-relieving solution to lay over his scar if it began hurting again and strict instructions to go straight back to Gryffindor Tower and _rest_.

The Weasleys, even Percy, who had Apparated to Hogwarts as soon as Dumbledore had Flooed him, had congregated in Gryffindor Tower to take comfort in each other and await news of their parents. The last he had heard, Bill and Charlie were still on their way through international customs, but that didn't matter. The idea of returning to Gryffindor Tower and facing even one of them, let alone five, made him wonder how long he could survive without sleeping.

Harry just walked, letting his feet choose the way, and thus was not entirely surprised when he found himself outside the headmaster's office. "Canary Cream," he said, the sudden noise in the silence startling him, even though he had made it himself.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" snarled Snape as he opened the door to Harry's polite knock.

"No, I'm sorry, I'll go," said Harry, turning around to leave.

"Severus," warned Dumbledore softly. "Harry? Was there something you wanted?"

"I just…" said Harry weakly, turning back towards the headmaster and taking a step forward, but stopped, staring at him helplessly.

"Ah," nodded Dumbledore knowingly. "Come in, Harry. Sit down. Would you like a gumball?" he asked, indicating a bowl of brightly coloured spheres on his desk. Harry shook his head and sat down, ignoring Professor Snape's sneering look. "We're doing all we can, Harry. In fact, in the next half hour, I shall be going to a meeting to discuss the idea of a rescue attempt."

"How did this happen, Professor?" asked Harry despairingly.

"We cannot protect _everyone_, Harry." Dumbledore shook his head wearily. "We must identify those most likely to be attacked and distribute our resources between them. Voldemort's attack on the Weasleys seems to be completely unprovoked; Mr. Weasley was no longer able to help me at the Ministry and I am certain that Voldemort does not know about the other work they are doing for me because it was recovered untouched from The Burrow."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his face shadowed and old looking as he continued sadly, "Until this spy of Voldemort's is identified, we will continue to lose precious information. It is most disturbing that Voldemort seems to have discovered your visions and the means to induce them. I fear that you may find yourself being an eyewitness to many of his atrocities."

Anger and despair warred for control within him. Voldemort could draw him into a vision whenever he wished, forcing him to watch the deaths of anyone who the Dark Lord thought would affect him. Whoever Voldemort captured and tortured, however, Harry knew that he could never accede to Voldemort's demands for him to turn himself in because if he died Voldemort would become virtually indestructible. This spy, whoever they were, had a lot to answer for. Harry's composure broke and he lashed out in anger, trembling with the force of his emotions. "Why didn't _you_ know about this attack, Professor Snape? And why don't you know who the spy is?" he demanded. "Aren't you supposed to be _our_ spy?"

"Twenty points from Gryffindor!" snarled Snape, looking as though he was considering carving Harry up for Potions ingredients.

"Harry, I'd expected better from you," said Dumbledore softly, shaking his head in disapproval.

"I'm sorry, Professor Snape," said Harry contritely, suddenly feeling very foolish. "I know it's not your fault and I'm sure it's just as frustrating for you."

Snape merely grunted and Harry turned back to look at the headmaster. "I think I'll go back to the common room now," he said sadly. "I don't know how I'm going to face the Weasleys, though."

"Harry," warned Dumbledore, "none of this is your fault."

"I know," said Harry quietly. "But that doesn't stop it feeling like it is."

An expression that looked strangely like sympathy passed across Snape's face for a moment before his face regained its usual sneer. Then suddenly he was clutching his left arm with his right. "Headmaster," he gasped, "I must go." Then Snape staggered out the door of Dumbledore's office and out of sight.

"Right then," said Dumbledore sadly, before shaking his head as though to dispel the bad thoughts. "I'm afraid, Harry, that I have important business to attend to, if I am to try to see about verifying Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's current condition and possibly arranging their recovery."

Harry nodded. "All right. Good luck, Professor," he said softly and left Dumbledore's office.

_To be continued..._

**A/N:** Can I ask any of you who would like to have a guess at who the spy is to contact me personally at mslilley@yahoo.co.uk rather than leaving a review stating your guess on the review boards? That way, if you're right, you can gloat after it is all revealed, but you won't wreck the surprise for others. Thanks! All reviews are, as always, immensely appreciated. We're into the home stretch now - 42 chapters in all. : )


	37. A Spy Uncovered

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 37: A Spy Uncovered**

When Harry finally made it back to the common room, everyone except the Weasleys and Hermione had gone to bed. The Weasleys seemed to be still in shock over the capture of their parents, taking comfort in each other's presence, clustered together in the armchairs near the fire. Ron and Hermione were squeezed onto one chair, Hermione softly stroking a comforting hand through Ron's hair as he stared sightlessly into the fire. The mischief was gone from Fred and George's eyes as they huddled in another chair, holding one another as close as they had been in their mother's womb.

Percy seemed to be hit the worst. "The last thing I said to them was when I stormed out on Dad and told Mum he was a Muggle-loving fool," Percy told Ginny numbly, as she tried to comfort him. "And the last thing she said to me was in a Howler."

"They loved you, Percy," she replied easily and Harry had to wonder what it was like to so confidently know that your parents loved you. "And I'm sure they've already forgiven you."

"I hope so," whispered Percy, the pain visible in his eyes. "But I just can't believe it. Some of the things I said to them were just…"

"Ginny?" whispered Harry softly, kneeling down beside the armchair she was sharing with Percy. Percy immediately tried to get up to go and sit by himself to make room for Harry, but Ginny grabbed his arm and forced him back into the chair.

"Don't worry," said Harry firmly as Ginny's red-rimmed eyes pled for understanding of how much her brother needed her. "You need to be with your brothers."

"Just remember that it's not your fault, Harry," she reminded him sadly. "I've, um, still got the cloak, so, um, even though Dumbledore said no, would you mind if I came to visit you tonight if it gets to be a bit much to handle? Just to sleep?"

It was a measure of how truly upset Percy was that he didn't even ask what was going on that was obviously against the rules. "That'd be fine," nodded Harry, before shuffling off to the Head dormitory to wait for her. The stress, physical exertion, and pain all combined so that he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

***

Voldemort was angry. He seemed to be trembling with rage as he paced around the clearing where he held his Death Eater meetings. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he saw both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley standing at the edge of the clearing, their feet set firmly into some sort of glowing block so that they couldn't move. Mrs. Weasley's left eye was black, while Mr. Weasley was bleeding from his nose, which appeared to be broken. Lucius Malfoy's body lay on the ground next to them.

There were only a few Death Eaters in the clearing; more Apparated in every minute and took their places in the circle until they were all there.

Harry wondered frantically whether he had been brought here to watch the Weasleys killed for real this time and tried for a moment to wake up, before realising that from what he could gather from Voldemort's emotions, the Dark Lord's anger was entirely real. He appeared to be too furious to notice that Harry was with him, although Harry had no idea how he had known before.

"You all know that I have a spy at Hogwarts," said Voldemort in a tight, controlled voice. "Step forward, Severus Snape."

The tallest figure in the circle stepped out from his companions and made a low bow. "My Lord," he said silkily, "how may I serve you?"

Voldemort stepped forward toward Snape and circled him slowly. "My spy," he sneered, "my unquestionably loyal, brilliant spy." Snape bowed and Harry's throat clenched. "My spy," continued Voldemort, "has informed me that you are a _traitor_!"

Snape barely batted an eyelid. "My Lord," he replied smoothly, "I have always served you to the utmost of my abilities."

"You lie, Snape," said the Dark Lord coldly, summoning Snape's mask from his face and throwing it to the ground. He put one heavy boot on the mask and slowly crushed it to pieces. "_Imperio_! Now tell me the truth!"

Snape stiffened as the curse hit him and seemed to be fighting with his mouth as it opened of its own volition. "I am loyal… loyal…" Voldemort seemed to concentrate harder and Snape stiffened again, then slumped, a blank expression taking over his face as the curse overpowered his will. "I am spying for Dumbledore," he freely admitted.

"Is there a way to get into Hogwarts?" demanded Voldemort without blinking an eye at the confession.

"There is a Portkey to Dumbledore's study on my collar," said Snape, the same blank expression on his face. Voldemort Summoned the lapel pin from Snape's collar and inspected it thoroughly before looking back up at him.

"What of the wards? Dumbledore must key them to each person who is allowed in, which is why we have not acquired pins from the students."

"Yes," said Snape unconcernedly, "that is true, but Dumbledore built in an override password, which may have been useful had I ever found it necessary to bring in a prisoner." Snape suddenly seemed to wake up to what he was saying and clamped his mouth shut, a terrible struggle showing on his face.

"Tell me the password," prompted Voldemort.

"No," murmured Snape softly. "No, I won't," he repeated a little louder, shaking his head as Voldemort focussed all his concentration on the spell. "NO!" he yelled and suddenly his wand shot out of his sleeve like an arrow and he brought it around to his temple. "_Obliviate_!" he cried, just as his wand was torn from him by a Disarming Charm. Snape was knocked backward, obviously unconscious, into what could only be either Crabbe or Goyle Senior. The bulky Death Eater grabbed Snape under the arms and propped him up in front of him, holding him out towards Voldemort.

"_Enervate_!" screamed Voldemort and Snape instantly snapped awake. "What is the password? _Imperio_! TELL ME THE PASSWORD!"

Snape surrendered to the curse with a smirk on his face, which turned to a puzzled frown as Voldemort demanded the password. "I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "I remember that Dumbledore was going to tell me, but then … nothing!"

Voldemort spun around and walked away, seething with rage. Finally he turned back to Snape, who had recovered from the Imperius Curse and was looking victorious. "You will regret your rash actions, Snape," he said in mock pity. "It will take less than an hour under the Cruciatus Curse for your mind to begin crumbling. It _is_ a shame to throw away a fine intellect like yours, but the Memory Charm will fall from your mind while you are still capable of communicating the password to me, so all is not lost."

Snape's triumphant smirk had dissolved into a mask of horror. "No!" he protested weakly.

"Would you tell me the password, even if you could?" asked Voldemort calmly. Snape shook his head defiantly, hopelessly. "We'll have to fix that. _Crucio_!"

***

Harry woke up to the burning in his scar, Professor Snape's agonised screams ringing in his ears. Quickly, he extracted the memory of the dream into the Pensieve. Unable to put the sound away from him, however, he distractedly prodded at the silvery substance and the form of Professor Snape rose to the surface, his pain almost audible from the expression on his face. The leather cord around his neck felt strangely heavy and his hand reached, almost of its own accord, inside his robes to pull out the rings. As soon as his hand touched the silvery Promise Ring, it uncoiled into the delicate form of a tiny snake, slithered along his hand, and dropped into the Pensieve.

Shocked and unthinking, Harry reached forward to pull the ring from the bottom of the silvery liquid, now glowing with a faint green light. He realised his mistake just as his fingers brushed the surface.

He fell forward into the liquid, screwing his eyes shut against the whirlpool dragging him down. When his feet hit the ground, he opened his eyes to see which memory he was witnessing. To his surprise, the place seemed only vaguely familiar; a sense of wrongness pervaded his recollections of the room.

It was not the forest. His Pensieve was brimming with memories of the forest where Voldemort had his Death Eater meetings and there were only a few others. He ran through them quickly, trying to match this strange place. There was the meeting with Sirius in Dumbledore's office, his recollections of the Third Task, and the interview with Barty Crouch, junior, for Cho's benefit. His last vision of The Burrow and his nightmares. And that was all.

Well, it certainly wasn't any of those. Someone must have added a new memory to his Pensieve – but who would do that? And who else had access to the Pensieve?

Harry looked around the strange place with new vigour. It was a bedroom. There was a large four-poster bed against the far wall, draped with a beautiful green and silver swirled bedspread. There was a window on the far wall, looking out not far above ground level. The curtains were deep green velvet, hanging in soft folds reminiscent of the red velvet around Harry's bed.

Suddenly it clicked why it was so familiar. This room was an identical shape to Hermione's room. In fact, it had identical décor – the chests of drawers, the wardrobe, the bedspread – everything was the same, except the colour. Hermione's bedroom was decorated in red and gold, as was fitting for a Gryffindor Prefect. This was the bedroom of a Slytherin Prefect.

Harry shook himself out of his bemused study of the room. He could always come back here later. Now he needed to get to Dumbledore, so that he could pass on the news about Professor Snape. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on wanting to be out, but did not feel the familiar feeling of rising. He seemed to be stuck.

Now that he thought about it, the ambient light was quite greenish – similar to that odd green glow that had been visible in the Pensieve before he fell into it Harry groaned. He had done the most stupid of things and mixed two magical artefacts whose properties he wasn't totally sure he knew. Were Promise Rings _supposed_ to do this in a Pensieve?

Harry turned to sit on the bed and started at the sight behind him. She had been so quiet that he hadn't noticed the dainty redhead working at a large cauldron. Harry puzzled over who she could possibly be – the Slytherin Prefects were all male at the moment – maybe she was a guest in the room?

His thoughts were interrupted by a male voice behind him. "How is the potion going, Lily?"

The girl stirring the cauldron looked up sharply at the newcomer, and when Harry saw her face everything became clear. It was his mother. Maybe the Pensieve leeched a memory out of her ring? But that couldn't be right, she wasn't wearing the ring, so it couldn't. Harry brushed aside his concerns. It was his mother. His eyes were riveted to her, and his brain was numbly repeating the words over and over again. His mother.

"It should be ready in about five minutes," she replied to the unseen boy behind him. She flashed him a nervous smile and then returned to stirring the cauldron with an intensity of purpose Harry had only ever seen in Hermione when she was in the Library. "Well, you were always the better one at Potions!" said the boy, a smile evident in his voice before he dropped back to a more serious note. "I do love you, you know, Lily. I will always love you."

All thoughts of returning to tell Professor Dumbledore about Snape's situation flew out of his mind as he realised who the other person in the room was. His father.

This was nothing like the pale shades of his parents who had emerged from the end of Voldemort's wand. These were his parents in three dimensions and full colour, relaxed and enjoying life, the way they were every day, not when they were trying to save his life. He could find out the little things that he had never known.

His mother's voice was affectionate as she said, "Of course you do, you idiot, and I love you, too. If we didn't love each other so much this wouldn't work. We're making _Promise Rings!_"

Harry felt as though he was about to burst with happiness as he drank in a million things about his mother. Her hair was just the same colour as Ginny's. She was right-handed – he could see by the way she stirred the cauldron.

His mother left her cauldron and almost ran to her boyfriend, flinging her arms around his neck. Harry's eyes followed her and he caught his first glimpse of his father. He was quite a bit taller and skinnier than he had seemed in the photos. The black hair seemed a bit sleeker and better behaved and he was bent almost double putting his arms around the much shorter Lily. Harry couldn't see his father's face, buried as it was in his mother's hair, but he was quite content to wait, drinking in the sight of his parents – comfortable, Voldemort-free, and obviously in love.

Then the tall boy raised his head and Harry's dreams crashed to the ground and shattered into a million tiny, sparkling shards. It was Professor Snape.

_To be continued..._

**A/N:** Once again, if anyone would like to have a guess at who the spy is, please contact me personally at mslilley@yahoo.co.uk rather than leaving a review stating your guess on the review boards. Three out of the ten people who emailed me have earned the right to serious gloating after chapter 39 is posted. But that's all I'm saying! 

Apologies to the committed anti-Lily/Snape shippers who have informed me that such an unclean liaison would ruin my story - this has been planned right from the beginning. Give the next chapter a try though - who knows? I might have a point? : )

Thank you all for reading and reviewing!


	38. Lily's Torment

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 38: Lily's Torment**

Snape walked over to the cauldron in the centre of the room and peered into it. "Is it supposed to be that colour?"

"Get away from it!" cried Lily teasingly. "You know that you and Potions don't mix!"

"Oh, all right," he grumbled good-naturedly. He paused briefly. "Well? Is it supposed to be that colour?"

"Of course it is, you idiot! Have I ever brewed a potion wrong?"

"Well… there was that one time in second year with the Swelling Solution…"

"You know that wasn't my fault!" she protested then continued darkly. "It was all Potter's fault. How am I supposed to concoct a Swelling Solution when there's a firework in my cauldron? How he got to be a Prefect, I'll never know, with all the mayhem he's caused over the years! Ooh!" The cauldron had just begun glowing with a pale light. "That means that it's time to add the hair and then we're done!"

She carefully extracted a long red hair and a long black hair from a vial and slowly lowered them into the potion.

There was a noise like a thunderclap and suddenly the potion was glowing too brightly for them to look directly at it. The glow slowly faded to nothing and the couple inched forward to peer into the bottom of the cauldron. "YES!" Lily cried, then grabbed Snape and began to exuberantly dance around the room. "It worked!"

Snape looked entirely different with a huge smile lighting up his face, unashamedly twirling Lily. They broke apart again and reached into the cauldron, each emerging with a silver ring.

"I will love you forever, Lily Evans," vowed Snape sincerely.

"I will love you forever, Severus Snape," vowed Lily in return.

They slipped the rings onto one another's fingers and then leaned forward to seal their vows with a kiss.

Harry turned away, not really wanting to see his mother kissing _Snape_ of all people. At that moment, however, the room flickered with a strange silver and green light and Harry fell into the next scene.

Snape was standing on the road from Hogsmeade to the Shrieking Shack, peering intently behind him. A large patch of mud was dribbling down the side of his face into his hair and onto his shoulder. "I know you're there, Potter!" he called. "You're in trouble now! I know that you're banned from Hogsmeade from that last prank you played on me."

The road was silent. "Rules are for lesser mortals, aren't they, Potter, not Quidditch Cup winners, like yourself? Even though you're a Prefect, you can't help yourself from breaking every rule in sight, can you? Professor Dumbledore will have your Prefect badge for this!"

"Not if you can't prove anything," came a disembodied voice from halfway down the road. "Later, Snape!"

"Ah, but I can prove it," sneered Snape. "I can prove it because I've finally worked out how it is that you get away with all these pranks. _Accio Invisiblility Cloak!_"

"Snape!" grumbled the sixth year version of Harry's father as the silvery cloak flew off he and his three friends. Remus calmly attempted to Summon the cloak back, but Snape held on to it too tightly. Sirius was growling with outrage, while Peter simply looked terrified. "It was just a bit of fun! Give it back. I saved your life, remember?"

"Of course, Potter," scoffed Snape, stuffing the silvery Invisibility Cloak into his bag. "And whose fault was it that my life was endangered in the first place? You were saving your own skin. You all would have ended up in Azkaban if I'd died."

Remus' face blanched, while Sirius went a dark purple colour and stumbled forward, muttering angrily, but James held him back. "Don't do anything stupid, Sirius," the taller boy soothed. "You have to admit, he's right. What you did was completely irrational, not to mention decidedly Slytherin."

"Don't insult my house like that," Snape snarled. "Such a thoughtless moron would never have made it into Slytherin. Now, if you don't mind," he smiled rather nastily and patted the soft lump on his bag where the Invisibility Cloak lay, "I'll just take this up to the castle and show it to Professor Dumbledore."

"Go on, James," urged Peter in a whisper pitched too low for Snape's ears. "That Memory Charm we found in the library! It's the only way. You'll need to do it, I'm hopeless at Charms."

Harry's father reluctantly lifted his wand, aiming it at Snape's retreating back. "_Oculivate_." Snape must have heard or felt the charm coming because he whirled and tried to raise a hasty shield, but the white light easily broke through the flickering shield and hit him full in the face.

Snape stood stock still, staring straight ahead without moving.

"It's meant to be _Obliviate_!" gasped Remus in horror. "Merlin knows what you've done, James! Snape? Are you all right?" He made to go towards Snape, but Sirius grabbed his arm.

"No," he said. "We've got to get out of here. Grab the cloak and let's go."

"I agree with Remus," said James stubbornly. "We need to get him to Madam Pomfrey! I'll take all the blame, if you like. The rest of you can get the cloak and go."

Snape fell to the ground hard as Sirius roughly yanked his bag from him and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak.

Harry's father reached down to try to help him to his feet, but jumped back as Snape batted his hands away. "Go away!" Snape cried desperately. "Don't touch me!" James tried again, but Snape was adamant, nearly punching him in the nose with one particularly vicious blow.

"Okay," said Harry's father resignedly, chasing after his quickly retreating friends and disappearing under the Invisibility Cloak. "He needs help, but he won't accept it. We'll just have to leave him."

"Did you see his face?" giggled the invisible Peter in the distance. "What a joke! If anyone deserved whatever that curse was, he did."

The sound of four voices laughing rather nervously drifted back towards Harry as Snape brought the small silver serpent ring on his finger to his mouth and whispered, "Lily, I need you."

There was a pause, then… "Whoa!" cried Lily as she suddenly appeared right next to Snape and collapsed in a heap on the ground. "Are you all right, Severus?" she panted. "I felt you calling me and I was just thinking about how to get to you and it Portkeyed me…" Lily trailed off, noticing Snape's silence. "Sev? What's the matter?"

Snape, who had been staring at the ground, raised his eyes to look unsteadily up at a spot slightly above her face. "Potter cursed me," he said, an edge of desperation in his voice that Harry had never heard before. "I was too slow to stop it and now I'm – I'm blind. You're so beautiful, Lily, I might never see your face again. I can't be a wizard if I'm blind! I can't see: I can't aim my wand; I don't know where I am; I can't brew a potion; oh, Merlin, I can't even read a book..."

"Severus!" she said firmly, grabbing his chin and forcing it up towards her face. "It will be all right. Let's get you to Madam Pomfrey. Chances are, she can fix this in a jiffy. And whether this can be fixed or not, I'll still love you, Sev. We'll get them expelled for this," she assured him vehemently as she pulled him to his feet and started helping him along the winding road back to the castle. "They can't go around blinding people and expect to stay at Hogwarts."

Snape stumbled on a rough patch in the road and would have fallen if it hadn't been for Harry's mother beside him, holding him tightly. "This is all my fault," said Lily softly. "I should never have agreed to have a Butterbeer with Helen and let you walk back alone."

Snape snorted, stumbling again but seemingly comforted by Lily's tone. "At least I'm sure it's you now. How many times do I have to tell you that things like this are _not _your…"

Harry's heart softened, ever so slightly, and he tried once more to escape from the Pensieve, wanting to go and tell Dumbledore about Snape's capture. Again, there was no familiar feel of rising and Harry was left watching his mother gently guiding Snape down the road towards Hogwarts. The colours flickered again and Harry found himself on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, the Hogwarts Express waiting to make the journey to Hogwarts.

"I'm Head Girl, Sev!" Lily cried from halfway across the platform. "Can you believe it?"

"I always knew you would be, love," Snape replied, picking her up and whirling her in a circle, before pulling her close. "I missed you," he murmured into her hair.

"I missed you too, Sev," replied Lily.

"So tell me," he grinned, "who's Head Boy? I'm _longing_ to grind Potter's face in the fact that he could never be Head Boy after that prank last year!"

"Well, actually…" Lily started, obviously not really knowing how to tell Snape that he was wrong.

But Lily didn't have to finish, because Snape guessed what she had to tell him from the look on her face. "Oh NO!" cried Snape. "They can't have!"

"They did," Lily said grimly. "I have to put up with that _prat_ all year. I have to work with him! Everyone knows how much we hate him!"

"Never mind, love," said Snape, pulling her to him. "I'm sure it won't be too bad. I'll help you if he's not willing to pick up his end. It'll be alright."

The light flickered again and Harry found himself in what looked like the Slytherin head dormitory.

"I have to go, Sev," said Harry's mother, shoving the books scattered on her bedspread into a neat pile. "I've got to meet up with Potter to discuss the preparations for the next Hogsmeade weekend."

"Don't let him get under your skin, love," called Snape amiably from where he lay on Lily's bed, contentedly working on an essay of some sort.

Lily stopped in the doorway and looked back. "He's actually been very helpful this year. He hasn't pulled any pranks or disrupted the meetings, even when he's not being watched. It's like he's completely changed."

"It's probably just an act," said Snape sourly. "He's saving up for something big, that's what he's doing."

"But what if it's not? What if he's not the boy he used to be? Could you forgive him?"

Snape looked startled, then his face hardened. "Forgive him?" he spat. "He almost killed me! He blinded me for a _week_! Why should I?" Lily simply nodded her head sadly and left, as though it was the answer she had expected, but not the one she had hoped to get. Snape sat fuming on her bed, watching her retreating back.

The scene changed again.

"Lily, I need to speak to you."

Lily looked up from the table in the library that she was sharing with James. Taking one glance at the look on Snape's face, she excused herself and guided them both to a quiet section of the library.

"My Promise Ring disintegrated about half an hour ago," he said, extending his left hand to show her the silvery dust coating his palm.

"What?" she exclaimed. "I've never heard of a Promise Ring doing anything like that! What does it mean? Have you looked in _Mystical Magical Artefacts_?"

"I just looked it up," said Snape grimly, holding up the book in question. "Here, have a look." Without another word, Snape stalked out, the tears flowing freely down his cheeks the only indication that he was upset and not angry.

Another scene materialised around Harry.

Snape was sitting at the side of the lake, hurling small stones into the water with all the force he could muster. Lily sat beside him with her face buried in her knees, helplessly twisting the silver ring on her finger. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. "This is all my fault, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Go to him," said Snape in a tightly controlled voice. "And he'd better treat you well or so help me…"

Lily abruptly raised her face to look at him. "No! I swore a vow, I'm not breaking it."

Snape got up and started walking away. "You are not breaking any vow because I am releasing you from it. You love him, not me. Go to him. I want you to be happy. But…" He paused for a moment and looked back uncertainly. "Will you keep wearing my ring? I mean, you don't have to wear it on your finger if you don't want to, but somewhere?"

"Yes," said Lily croakily, "I will wear it for as long as you love me."

Snape turned away to hide his tears and was halfway to the castle when he turned and stared back at Lily framed against the sunset. "Goodbye, Lily," he whispered. He looked lost for a moment before suddenly patting his pockets and pulling out a small Muggle-style camera. Turning quickly, he snapped the picture of her and his face twisted into the familiar glare that Harry saw on the elder Snape's face every day. "She's too good for you, Snape," he whispered savagely. "You _always_ knew that she belonged with someone like Perfect Potter. You don't _deserve_ her. You don't deserve anyone _like_ her. Just _remember_ that." Then he stuffed the camera back into his pocket and continued his dejected journey back to the castle.

Turning back, Harry recognised the photo as being in his album: the one where his mother had run away from him because she thought he was his father. The fact that _Snape_ had donated one of the precious photos he owned of his parents – a photo that was obviously enormously significant to his professor – suddenly brought things home for Harry. His knees gave out and he fell to the ground, staring after the man who did not seem quite so much of a "greasy git" any more.

The light flickered once more and Harry was in the Great Hall.

"Black, you take that back NOW!" yelled Lily. "You have NO RIGHT to say that about Severus! This is entirely _my_ fault!"

Sirius simply grinned and indicated Snape, who was looking stricken. Snape managed to choke out, "He's right, Lily. Just leave me alone, please?" He strode away without looking back and Lily dejectedly gazed after him for a moment before rounding on Sirius.

Harry had only just heard his mother roar, "BLACK!" when the room flickered again.

Snape was at a desk holding a quill, a piece of almost blank parchment before him, marred only by one sentence written in deadly blank ink. _I accept._

Yet another scene formed around Harry as the desk faded away.

Snape was on his knees in Dumbledore's office, with Dumbledore himself looking down at him gravely. "I am a Death Eater, Headmaster. Do as you will with me; I am ready to face the consequences, but please believe me." Snape took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing. "He wants to kill the Potters and put Lily under the Imperius Curse. Voldemort thinks that if her husband and child were dead, her will to live would be almost nonexistent and she would not be able to throw off the curse. He wants her power, Headmaster. He won't even try to persuade her to the cause because of her parentage. He will destroy everything she cares about to weaken her, put the curse on her, and use her until she is burned out. And if she does not submit, he will kill her. I love her, Headmaster. Please believe me. I do not wish to see her harmed."

The memories continued.

The Death Eaters stood in a faithful, silent semi-circle behind Voldemort as he raised his wand. A glowing purple sphere appeared around Voldemort as a protection in case the spell bounced. "_Imperio_. Stand aside, you silly girl!" he called. "Stand aside, now!"

Lily stiffened, but threw off the curse with little discernable effort. "Not Harry, please no," she cried frantically, "take me, kill me instead –"

"_Imperio_," Voldemort tried again, but it was no more use than the last time, as Lily easily threw off the curse.

"Not Harry!" she cried, shielding her child with her body. "Please… have mercy… have mercy…"

Tears burned in Harry's eyes as he saw the look on Voldemort's face. Voldemort had realised that Lily would never submit to the curse while her child lived and would never allow her child to die while she was still alive. "_Avada Kedavra_," cried Voldemort. There was a flash of green light and Voldemort seemed surprised when Lily did not even attempt to raise a shield to protect herself. Harry found himself screaming along with his mother as the green light hit her and she fell to the floor, her face full of the horror of the knowledge of her doom, her eyes blank and staring.

Voldemort let his shield drop and turned to young Harry, who looked up at him with wide green eyes. "_Avada Kedavra_," he whispered, sure that the defenceless child could do nothing to protect himself. But he was wrong.

Harry's skin flashed as the curse hit him on the forehead and the curse bounced back, hitting Voldemort squarely in the chest. A shield _was_ up around Harry. Lily had left herself unprotected because all her power had been given over to protecting her son.

Changed by the shield left by the boy's dead mother, the Killing Curse did not take life and leave the body behind as a useless husk. It disintegrated the body and left a behind a smoky presence, less than a ghost, more than just air.

The remains of Voldemort gave a roar of rage, then speared upwards towards… There should have been a ceiling. And a roof, Harry decided. At least, there had been before…

Looking around, Harry realised that there wasn't much left of the house at all. Young Harry was squalling inconsolably in his crib and all the Death Eaters had left when an obviously shattered Severus Snape Apparated in, knowing that he was too late as he hopelessly stared around at the devastation. He stumbled desperately through the ruins, finally kneeling and holding his love's lifeless body to him. As he rocked her gently, he turned his face to the sky and let out a heart-rending cry of agony and loss.

As the long cry faded, Snape leant down to bury his face in her shoulder, his body shaking uncontrollably in his grief. The colours flickered again.

This time the colours did not fade into another scene, they continued to swirl molten silver and green, filling Harry once again with the love he had felt when he held the ring. The sharp pang of loss spreading through him was now clearly identifiable as Snape's pain at the loss of his mother's love and then her life. Harry looked around nervously trying to discern what was happening.

"Son of my heart's beloved," came a quiet voice.

"Who is it?" Harry cried as he whirled with his wand held at the ready.

"I cannot understand you," it continued softly. "Speak in my language; I can _feel _the ability in you."

Suddenly it clicked and Harry looked down at the small silver ring he was holding in his hand. It had become a tiny, but perfectly formed, silver snake, rearing up with its tail curled under it. The Promise Ring's tiny emerald eyes fixed Harry with a steady gaze as it flickered its miniature forked tongue. "Hello," Harry hissed in Parseltongue. "Can you help me to get out of here?"

"Yes," hissed the tiny snake, "but we shall talk more once we are out of this vessel for thoughts."

Harry felt himself rising through the air, green and silver swirled violently below him, and suddenly he was back in his dormitory. He looked down at the snake in his hand, still stunned at the fact that it seemed to be an entity in its own right.

It gave a frustrated little hiss that seemed to Harry like the snake equivalent of a sigh. "Yes, I can talk. No, I did not before because there was no reason to do so. My heart despised you, for you carry your father's stamp most openly. But, son of my heart's beloved, I have no choice now. I saw that you know of my heart's torture. Can you save him?"

"No," replied Harry firmly, quickly making the connection between the Promise Ring's heart and Snape. "First of all, Dumbledore wants me to stay here. Second, I can't get there even if I wanted to. And third, there's nothing I could do if I did get there, because it's me that Voldemort's after. Now, I have to go warn Dumbledore. They'll be able to break through the wards in less than an hour! He might be able to save Snape."

"I can bring you to my heart's side in a moment," said the tiny snake, "and as for your third point: can you even comprehend what is possible when using a Promise Ring in defence of its heart?"

"What do you mean?" asked Harry suspiciously.

"You know that I would usually augment your power about two-fold." Harry nodded dubiously. "Good. When used in defence of the ring's creator, a Promise Ring will expand your power at least one hundred-fold. No curse has ever been known to be successful against someone defending the heart of his or her Promise Ring. Your power is not small by itself and you hold the power of my heart's beloved in you as well."

"But if Voldemort kills me, he will have all that power as well as his own!" cried Harry. "I can't risk it! I want to save Snape, but I just _can't_ risk it." Harry paused before adding, "He wouldn't want me to risk it either."

"You risk nothing," replied the tiny snake calmly. "Think about it. If Voldemort strikes at you without shielding, he will be defeated once again. He was always very careful never to threaten the heart of any Promise Ring. But either he does not know of my existence or thinks that I am lost. He will strike or he will run. Either way, my heart is safe and so are you."

Harry stared at the glowing Pensieve for about a minute, thoughts and memories tumbling over in his brain.

"_If Voldemort comes into possession of the power you bear, he will be almost entirely unbeatable._"

Snape's agonised screams.

"_He will strike, or he will run._"

Voldemort's high, cold laughter.

"_And what would it be like for _us_ if _you_ died when we could have saved you?_"

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were still alive.

"_You see why we must make sure to keep you alive, Harry?_"

"_You risk nothing._"

Finally, he remembered his realisation over the summer: Voldemort could never win when there were people who loved each other; people who were willing to risk their lives for the people who made their lives worth living; people who were willing to live without fear.

"No," said Harry. "I won't go without Professor Dumbledore's permission."

"Then ask him," replied the ring simply.

Harry decided that this was the best idea the ring had come up with all night. He raced out into the now-empty common room and through the portrait hole. "Sorry!" he yelled to the Fat Lady, as he portrait banged open against the other wall. She merely huffed grumpily before returning to cover the portrait hole. Harry didn't turn back when he heard the Fat Lady cry out again, "What is going on tonight? Where are you? Come back here!"

The other person bothering the Fat Lady must have been going in the other direction; although Harry checked over his shoulder as he ran, he didn't see anyone behind him. "Canary Creams!" he panted to the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office, then raced up the moving staircase. "Professor!" he shouted as he pounded on the door. "Professor, I need to speak with you!"

When the door swung open, Harry was shocked to see that it wasn't Professor Dumbledore who stood there. It was Professor McGonagall.

"I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore!" cried Harry, doubling over as he gasped for breath.

"I'm sorry, Potter, but the Headmaster is absent. He will be back by morning."

"It'll probably be too late for Professor Snape by then!" panted Harry.

"Oh my!" breathed McGonagall, ushering him into the office. "He's been _discovered_?"

Harry nodded breathlessly. "Yes. They were torturing him. He's got the password to get the Death Eaters through the wards with his Portkey, but he Memory Charmed himself, so Voldemort's going to keep him under the Cruciatus until it breaks down."

McGonagall pressed one hand to her heart. "Well, there's nothing we can do," she said sorrowfully as she sat down at Dumbledore's desk and began scribbling quickly on a piece of parchment. "I shall contact Professor Dumbledore immediately, of course, but it will be all he can do to get back here in time to defend against the attack. By the time they attack, Severus will be beyond help. Go back to your dormitory, Potter. There's nothing more you can do here."

"Professor?" asked Harry hesitantly. "There _is_ something we can do."

"What is it, Potter?" she asked, looking up from her letter to Dumbledore.

"I have my mother's Promise Ring from him," said Harry. "I found it in a box of my parent's stuff this summer. It tells me –"

"Tells you, Potter?" asked McGonagall sharply.

"Oh yeah, it's a snake and I'm a Parselmouth, so I can speak to it."

McGonagall leaned back, shaking her head. "Will wonders never cease? Go on, Potter."

"It says that if _I_ went there, I would be able to protect Professor Snape using its power."

"No!" said Professor McGonagall sharply. "You cannot go! The headmaster told you why, we _cannot_ afford to risk your life!"

"Yes, I know that," said Harry in frustration, "but it tells me that I wouldn't be in any danger. With Professor Snape's ring as well as my own power, I know I can do this, Professor! But I didn't want to go without permission. Please, Professor, he's going to lose his mind or die!"

Professor McGonagall looked at him with pity in her eyes as she shook her head. "You know how powerful I am, Professor," Harry continued arguing. "I can hold my shield at full power, protecting four people, for the entire lesson of Defence Against the Dark Arts. We tested it once! The shield that my mother put up protected me against the Killing Curse once before and that's less than one hundredth of what I've got with his ring. You and I both know that it's strong enough. I can easily hold them all back for a few minutes so that I can get to Professor Snape and then Portkey us both back here with my pin. I promise I won't do anything but sit there and shield. I'll even –" Harry paused as his throat closed up on the words. "I'll even ignore Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, if that's what you want. They're both there and they're both alive."

Was the soft sob Harry thought he heard from Professor McGonagall just his imagination? Her face didn't change expression, but Harry was sure he had heard something. He pressed his advantage. "There were Death Eaters everywhere and I know I probably can't do anything to save the Weasleys, but I _can_ save Professor Snape. Professor Snape doesn't deserve this, Professor! He spies for us, he risks his life for us. The least we can do is try to save him!"

Professor McGonagall's face crumpled and she drew out a dainty red and gold striped handkerchief to dab tears away from the corners of her eyes. "Go, Potter," she said tightly. "Just go, before I change my mind."

"Thank you, Professor," said Harry, putting up one hand to check that his Portkey back to Hogwarts was on his collar before turning back to the ring. "Okay," he hissed softly, slipping it onto his right ring finger. "Take me." Harry felt a familiar jerk behind his navel as the Promise Ring activated. It felt slightly different to a Portkey though; for a moment, Harry fancied he could feel someone's arms around him, holding him tightly as the wind howled around him and the headmaster's office swirled out of view.

_To be continued..._

**A/N:** Sorry about the cliffhanger, but this chapter's already enormous, as is the next one. I had to put the break somewhere! : ) All right, all right, so that's not the only reason - I'm just a little bit evil as well. The next chapter is betaed and ready to post. I _may_ be induced into early posting by chocolate, shameless grovelling, and/or quality reviews. Extra brownie points for those who don't usually review! But I won't make you wait _too_ long either way. ; )

Out of seventeen guesses for the spy, there are now five correct and one that has the right idea, but the wrong person. I'm pretty pleased with those statistics! : ) The spy is revealed in the next chapter, so I'll post a list of White Lily Certified Gloaters at the end. For your last chance for a guess, DON'T post it to the review board, but feel free to contact me at mslilley@yahoo.co.uk...


	39. Rescue

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 39: Rescue**

The arms were torn away as his feet slammed into the ground. Even before he stood up, Harry raised his shield, drawing power through the ring on his finger. Instantly the crackling purple glow surrounded him. He had not needed to bring to mind a memory of fear or anger this time, filled as he was with sheer terror. He was going to face Voldemort. He was going to face Voldemort. He could not fail or the wizarding world would have no hope left. He was going to face Voldemort.

Pulling the shield in close to his skin to hide the glow, he crept towards the flickering firelight in the clearing straight ahead. He could feel his skin crackling with electricity, could hear the snapping of the sparks arcing between hairs on his arms and Professor Snape's agonised shrieks slicing through the night air. Each step was an effort as his scar burned so fiercely it felt like it was burning through his forehead into his brain. His body simply wanted to collapse to the ground and never get up again. Suddenly remembering the healing cloth Madam Pomfrey had given him for the pain in his scar, he dug it out of his pocket and desperately pressed it to his forehead. It soothed the pain back to a dull itch just as effectively as Ginny's healing charm.

Harry pulled it away, gasping as the pain in his scar returned, but managed to concentrate enough to Transfigure the cloth into a Muggle hat and jam it back on his head so that it soothed his scar, hoping he didn't look too stupid. Not that it really mattered, he supposed, but he wasn't sure if he'd ever live it down if Draco Malfoy got wind of him attacking the Dark Lord with a wash-cloth stuck to his forehead.

Harry whirled as he heard a rustle of leaves behind him, but saw nothing and tried to force his mind back to the task at hand. Was he a Gryffindor or not? He crept closer, hiding behind a tree on the edge of the clearing and attempting to work out how to get to Snape. There was a gap in the Death Eaters directly in front of him, but Harry couldn't hope to get all the way to Snape without some sort of distraction. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were on the other side of the clearing, about two thirds of the way around, so he looked on the other side. Whatever his distraction was, he didn't want them getting caught in the crossfire.

"Do you remember the password yet?" sneered Voldemort, lifting his wand from the puddle of black robes in front of him for a moment. Snape raised himself up onto his knees and spat at Voldemort before slumping to the ground again in another fit of convulsions, overcome with the pain of another burst of the Cruciatus Curse.

When his eyes landed on a particularly big pine tree on the edge of the clearing, Harry knew that he'd found his distraction. It was far away from both himself and the Weasleys and there was a huge pile of pine needles around the bottom, which looked to be about three inches thick. If he sent some of Hermione's bluebell flames towards it, it would surely catch fire immediately and draw the Death Eaters' attention away for crucial moments. Of course, he didn't want to set the whole forest alight, but what choice did he have? He drew his wand and aimed it carefully. "Inflam–"

Harry stopped. It looked like his distraction had been made for him when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley suddenly jumped and clasped their hands together, drawing every eye to them with their sudden movement. "Check them!" shrieked Voldemort, lifting his wand from Snape for a moment. A seed of worry planted itself in Harry's heart as he saw how the Weasleys' faces had suddenly changed from anxious to terrified, but he took advantage of the distraction and darted out into the clearing towards Snape.

Wormtail moved forward to check over the Weasleys' bonds. "Ooof!" he yelped as he ran into something solid and invisible just behind them. Harry's heart sank as the Death Eater grabbed an invisible arm and began to drag the person away from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Was this Dumbledore's "rescue attempt" gone wrong? Deciding that, if it was, he could at least get Snape out while Voldemort was distracted, Harry ran, ducking under a Death Eater's extended arm and darting into the middle of the circle.

"Go!" shrieked an achingly familiar voice and Harry almost stopped right where he was out of shock. It was Ginny.

Arthur Weasley looked hopelessly at his wife, who looked straight back into his eyes. They stayed.

"You can't help here, not without your wands!" Ginny cried again, as three Death Eaters warily closed in on her parents, eying them over in an attempt to determine what was different. "Get help, just take my pin and go, or we all die!"

Their eyes still locked, but obviously aware that if they did not use Ginny's Portkey soon then the Death Eaters would have them all, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley nodded unhappily to one another. "We love you, Gi–" called Mrs. Weasley softly and then they both vanished along with the glowing block in which their feet had been set to prevent them escaping. The three Death Eaters scowled as their attempt to grasp the Weasleys made contact with only air.

Harry's head was spinning. Ginny still had his Invisibility Cloak. She had been coming down to visit him in it sometime during the night – she must have seen him leaving Gryffindor Tower and followed him under the cloak. That would explain the noise the Fat Lady had made not long after he was gone, but how did Ginny get _here_? Harry's heart did a guilty sort of jump again as he realised that the arms he had felt around him had not been the echo of his mothers' arms – Ginny had grabbed him and been taken with him.

Somehow Harry's feet had kept going even though his brain seemed to be disconnected from them and, in the hubbub of the distraction, he had managed to reach the centre of the circle, and Professor Snape, without any of the Death Eaters noticing him. He grasped Snape's arm with his left hand and concentrated on the way the Potions master had Obliviated himself to protect Hogwarts; how important it was that this man was not tortured for the information he held.

As the shield ran out over the other man, covering him in an instant, Harry felt a sudden blaze of power rush through him, making his shield flash almost blindingly. It seemed the ring had been right about the amount of power he would have when protecting its "heart." He could feel his hair standing on end from the sheer power he held, but tried not to let it distract him. Snape's pain-filled eyes took one look at Harry before they rolled back up into his head and the Potions Master fainted.

Ginny! Harry's mind was shouting. She had no way of getting back to Hogwarts without a Portkey pin! Harry tried to concentrate on his shield; he couldn't help Ginny if he was dead. Surely there was something he could do to get to her…

The Death Eaters all turned to stare at the shielded duo in the middle of the clearing with amazement. "Mr. Potter," said Voldemort smoothly. "So nice to see you once again. What a pity it won't be for long. Get that cloak off and see who the spare is this time."

The spare. The spare. The words echoed through Harry's numb mind like the beat of a drum. _The spare._ Ginny wasn't a _spare_. _Kill the spare._ "NO!" cried Harry uselessly as Wormtail tore the silvery Invisibility Cloak seemingly out of thin air to reveal Ginny. The cloak fluttered forgotten to the ground as he grasped Ginny's arm tightly, making her gasp with pain.

The sight of her familiar face spurred Harry's brain into high gear. Harry's shield flickered and he tried desperately to focus. How could he get to her – or her to him? He couldn't move while shielding: doing so made maintaining the borders nearly impossible. He couldn't curse Wormtail because he would need to drop his shield for long enough to let the Death Eaters curse him. What he needed was something that worked directly on Ginny…

"_Accio Ginny!_" he cried suddenly, getting ready to flick his shield down for an instant to allow her to pass through the barrier. Wormtail had to strain briefly to keep hold of the struggling girl as she was magically pulled towards Harry, but the simple Summoning Charm could not break his grip. A Disarming Charm would probably work, but that required an outgoing as well as an ingoing magical pulse and his shield would be down for too long.

"Ah!" cried Voldemort in understanding as Harry used Ginny's name. "I'm honoured to finally make your acquaintance, Miss Weasley."

"I'm not afraid of you, Tom," spat Ginny. "I know what it means to be a Gryffindor now; I won't let you control me again!" She kicked Wormtail in the knee and tried to spin away from him, but he made a grab for her and caught her left wrist. "_Relashio!_" she cried and red sparks shot out of her wand at Wormtail, burning his shoulder above the silver arm, forcing him to let go.

"_Expelliamus_!" cried Voldemort, catching her wand as it was torn from her grasp and snapping it easily in one hand. Wormtail grabbed her again before she could take a single step, managing to get both her arms firmly in his grip this time despite her best efforts to escape. "My dear girl," he continued happily, tossing away the broken pieces of her wand as though they were rubbish, "do you honestly think you could stop me? Or that I even need to control you? Having borne witness to Potter's admirable little speech a few weeks ago, I am certain that you will make an excellent hostage to use against him, whether you are willing or not. Perhaps you can convince him to lower that excellent shield of his?"

"Don't you dare, Harry!" she yelled, before Harry had even had a chance to comprehend what Voldemort was saying. "You know what happens to the whole world if you die! If you let him win just to save me, I promise you I'll come back and haunt you for the rest of your –" The sound cut off abruptly as Voldemort sent a silencing charm at Ginny, leaving her mouthing uselessly in rage.

"I'll take that as a 'no,'" smirked Voldemort. "Such a passionate young woman, Mr. Potter! Ah well, you leave me no choice, Miss Weasley. _Crucio!_"

Ginny crumpled like a rag doll, supported only by the impassive looking Pettigrew, as convulsions wracked her helpless body and her mouth opened in a soundless scream. Harry's concentration faltered for a moment and the shield faltered with it, but he concentrated on what Ginny had said – don't let him win just to save her – and managed to strengthen it enough to take the curses that were hurled at him.

"I see," said Voldemort softly, raising his wand and allowing Ginny to collapse limply, panting soundlessly, in the grasp of Pettigrew's seemingly immensely strong silver arm. "Perhaps you would like to hear her this time?"

"Don't you dare give in, Harr–" was all he heard before her screams ripped through the air, sounding ten times louder and more agonised than they should have.

Harry shut his eyes, trying to block out the screams, concentrating on his shield, on Professor Snape, who he could save, on the ring, and on his fear and anger, which was the easiest by far.

Finally it stopped and the only sound was Ginny's harsh panting as she struggled to regain her breath. "Hold her still, Wormtail," ordered Voldemort. "A hostage is worth nothing, Mr. Potter," he said harshly, "if one is not willing to dispose of them. Drop your shield or say goodbye."

Harry just sat there, gripping Snape's arm tightly, hardly registering Voldemort's words as an ultimatum. "It's not your fault," whispered Ginny, shooting arrows through his heart with the tenderness of her reminder as she struggled violently to get away from Wormtail.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Voldemort started the words of the fatal curse. Everything seemed to be happening at once and Harry felt as though he was split five ways, like he was separate from his body, just a passive observer.

Harry wasn't sure if Ginny's life flashed before her eyes, but it certainly flashed before his. Dancing in their room together; her squealing and running upstairs again when she first saw him at The Burrow; eating ice cream with her; laughing with her; the way she looked at the Yule Ball; her elbow in the butter dish; the smile they'd shared at Percy's expense on platform nine and three-quarters; tickling her; shutting the idiotic singing 'get well' card she'd given him under the fruit bowl; the way her mischievous smile had seemed to light up the room when he had first kissed her; waking up next to her; holding her…

"Let her go, Wormtail!" roared Harry hopelessly, ripping his Portkey pin off his collar and dropping his shield for an instant to Banish it towards her, giving his wand an extra twist to activate the Portkey during flight, but it would never reach her in time. He could never hope to get out another spell before Ginny was…

"I love you," she said softly.

"Ginny!" he cried, the tears streaming down his face in earnest now as Voldemort finished the words and he watched the green stream of light and the Portkey converging on her in what seemed like slow motion.

Wormtail seemed to be struggling to get a better grip on Ginny and finally managed to pin her arms to her sides by wrapping his pudgy arms entirely around her body, but then spun them both around so that he was… What was he doing?

Pettigrew stiffened as the stream of green light hit him in the back, standing motionless for a moment in time before he slumped and began to slowly fall forwards on top of Ginny. Before he had moved so much as an inch, the Gryffindor pin sank into his back and they both vanished, Portkeyed to safety at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore had once told Harry that Wormtail's life-debt to him might come in handy. Harry had never been able to imagine a situation where he would have been glad to have a bond to Pettigrew, but…

"Then we'll do this the hard way!" roared Voldemort furiously, distracting Harry from his introspection. "Don't kill them – yet. Just break that shield down!"

Snape groaned, waking up and pulling himself up to a half-sitting position. He trembled violently with the pain left over from the Cruciatus Curse as he looked around. "Look out!" he cried in terror, flinching as twenty Unforgivable Curses hit the shield at once and all bounced back at their casters' hastily erected shields without noticeably affecting Harry's shield. Snape stared up at Harry in something that approached awe, but quickly shook off his surprise. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Um, rescuing you?" replied Harry rather sheepishly.

"Then activate your pin, Potter," he ordered furiously. "We'll discuss this reckless and utterly _Gryffindor_ stunt when we get back to Hogwarts. _Now_, Potter!"

Harry just stared at him, feeling more and more stupid. "All right then," said Snape in frustration, blinking blearily, "if you are such a dunderhead that you don't have enough attention to spare for things like SAVING OUR LIVES before you run out of power, then I'll do it for you!" He reached up with his shaking left hand for the pin from Harry's lapel. "It's not there."

"I, uh, Ginny needed it," muttered Harry, half hoping that Snape wouldn't hear what he'd said.

"You don't have _any_ sort of…" Snape spluttered before his face reformed itself into a bitter mask. "What a wonderful rescuer you turn out to be! Precious Potter snatches defeat from the jaws of victory by throwing away his only escape route!" he sneered.

"Oh, come on, Professor Snape!" cried Harry. "We're not exactly defeated yet!"

"Oh yes, that's right, I'd forgotten the perky, up-beat _Gryffindor_ mentality! It doesn't get much worse than _this_, does it, Potter?"

"Well," said Harry quietly, "I could always be duelling with the newly resurrected Voldemort after seeing a friend die. There was no hope then either."

Snape mouthed at him helplessly for a moment before settling back to glaring at him.

"Touching, very touching," interrupted Voldemort mockingly. Snape glowered at Harry, seemingly attempting to pretend that Voldemort didn't exist and channel all his anger into glaring at Harry. Harry wondered if it was possible to spontaneously combust under one of Snape's glares. "I'm afraid I don't intend to give you a chance to duel with me again, though, and there are no Portkeys out of here just hanging around."

The bright curses battered against Harry's shield and he closed his eyes, trying to block them out, trying to block Snape out, trying to concentrate.

"Would you like to know who betrayed you, Snape?" continued Voldemort casually, drawing his words out as though the person remotely mattered. Harry ignored him, concentrating on his shield. At this stage, he didn't care who the spy was; he just wanted to get himself and Snape out alive. "Who told me that you were a spy?" persisted Voldemort. "Who told me where to attack in Diagon Alley? Who told me where to find Potter's godfather? Who told me who the Creeveys' Secret Keeper was? Who told me that when I was angry, Potter could hear everything I said?

"Who told me that those Weasleys mattered so much to Potter? I was quite disappointed in you, Potter, when you decided to leave them with me to rot. What were your words again?" Voldemort put on a mocking voice, "'I know that your parents are proud of me and I'm not sure what I'd do without that!'" The Death eaters laughed derisively and, in spite of himself, Harry found that he was listening. How could Voldemort have known? Only he and Ginny had been there when he'd said that.

"Listen closely, Snape, because I know that you have been longing to find out. I know how you have been subtly questioning each of my loyal servants. I know how tirelessly you have searched."

Snape scowled, but seemed to be listening along with Harry even though he was not giving Voldemort the satisfaction of eye contact.

"His name," pronounced Voldemort smugly, pausing as though about to drop a bombshell, "is Harry Potter."

"What?" cried Harry in confusion, momentarily forgetting to maintain his shield. The Death Eaters around him reacted instantly, sending a dazzling array of curses towards him. Harry only just managed to slam his shield up soon enough to bounce them all back. When Harry looked back at Voldemort's out-of-focus face, he knew that the Dark Lord's plan had at least partially succeeded. Although it had taken time for the curses to reach the shield, two objects had escaped the barrier in the split second it was down. Voldemort sneered and held up Harry's glasses – and two wands.

Harry clutched his arm holster hopelessly, even as Snape snapped, "Foolish boy! Concentrate on that shield!"

"Your rage was such a sweet drug, Potter," sneered Voldemort, putting the two wands together in his hand and firing off a curse that seemed to be twice as powerful when it struck his shield. Harry groaned in horror. "But what was even sweeter was your innocence of the fact that by your very emotions you damned your friends."

"You liar!" Harry yelled back, making sure to keep his concentration balanced between his anger, the ring, Snape, and the borders of the shield.

"Oh, am I?" asked Voldemort, smiling nastily. "Have you never been so angry that your skin started to tingle with rage? So angry that your emotions pulled me to you, to share your pitiful life for a few minutes? Did you never wonder that if your connection to me has strengthened, it only makes sense that it would go two ways?"

Harry felt sick. Yes, of course it made sense. His brain whirred desperately as he tried to put it all together, he could feel the borders of the shield blurring and fading as his anger gave way to self-disgust and a bitter disappointment that seemed to consume him. It was all his…

"Look at me and focus!" Snape's voice cracked through his distraction like a whip and the habit of five years of Potions classes startled him into obeying immediately. He turned to look at Snape, who was sneering at him in the manner he had done since the very first Potions class, giving him a focus for his anger. As he focussed on nothing more than his shield and Snape's face, Voldemort's taunting died away to a barely audible background noise.

"Now for once in your life," continued Snape in a disgusted voice, "_concentrate_ on what you're meant to be doing! It _does not matter_ how Voldemort got the information. This is _not_ your fault. It was the only time in your miserable, lucky life you took all the reasonable precautions! Not even Dumbledore thought of this!"

Harry stared at Snape in amazement. Was Snape actually _defending_ him? In amongst all the insults and harsh tones, he thought he might have found a bit of concern and understanding. The shield stood firm and bright around them both against another volley of curses as Harry easily balanced his anger with his need to protect this new Snape.

"You would have absolutely no idea how tired I got of telling your completely irrational mother that things were not her fault. That was out of your control, Potter, unlike this misguided and entirely stupid stunt you've pulled in coming here. Now move your shield back to cover only you, to conserve your power. I will not be responsible for both of our deaths."

"I'm not leaving you here," said Harry firmly. "Too many people have died while I lived. Besides," he shrugged, "I've got loads more power when I'm shielding you than when I'm not because I've got Mum's ring."

Snape's eyes widened in sudden understanding and Harry pressed on quickly. "Professor Figg made me promise not to tell anyone unless I had to and I didn't even know it was from you until about an hour ago. I know all about – uh – what happened. I'm really sorry."

Snape nodded slowly, the ever-present glare softening to be filled with a pain that almost rivalled what had been in his eyes after the Cruciatus Curse. He didn't shift his eyes from Harry's face, staring at him with a strangely non-malicious intensity that made Harry a little uncomfortable. "You hide Lily's eyes and character behind Potter's hair and damned glasses," Snape whispered finally. "And, for the life of me, I can't see a bit of your father in you right now."

Harry shrugged, pushing the feeling of the rain of curses thudding against his shield into the background along with Voldemort's frustrated ranting. "Then maybe I should wear a hat and leave my glasses in my dormitory when I come to Potions."

Snape glowered at him. "In that unlikely event, I would be forced to award any points you earned to Slytherin. Or perhaps take them off for that ridiculous hat." Harry's shield flickered with his surprise and it was only a sharp order of "Concentrate!" that brought him back into focus. Was Snape… joking with him? Was the world coming to an end? Well, perhaps it was.

Harry flinched as another volley of curses struck his shield; it felt like he was beginning to weaken. Even with the extra power of his mother's ring, having Voldemort and all his Death Eaters trying desperately to break down the shield with unforgivable curses was quite different to maintaining a shield against a class of students casting minor hexes.

The rain of Dark curses came faster now that they began to sense that he was weakening. Now he understood why everyone else had been knackered after the Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons. Snape seemed to sense Harry's fatigue, too, and Harry felt his eyelids beginning to droop as exhaustion started to overcome him. Harry looked past the angry glare Snape was sending him to the dread in the dark eyes and tried to keep his eyes open, tried to focus.

"Where is the ring?" Snape demanded suddenly.

"It's on my finger," said Harry, flapping his right hand tiredly at Snape. "Why?"

"Remember to concentrate, whatever happens," he said. "Just remember to concentrate. I can't give you long, not against Unforgivables, but since you have that ring perhaps it will be of some assistance." Then Snape placed one hand over his, touching the ring, closed his eyes and slumped to the ground as Harry's power surged anew.

Harry refused to listen to Voldemort's taunting voice, which still rang in his ears as the Dark Lord tried to distract him, focussing instead on Snape's unconscious form, on keeping the shield as close as he could to conserve power, on the strange camaraderie that had seemed to form between he and Snape in the last ten minutes.

Hardly had the new burst of power arrived, however, than it began to fade again. Harry felt the exhaustion setting in once more and knew that they were dead and that he had failed. His last thought was to maintain the shield as long as possible. He would not make it one bit easier for Voldemort than it had to be, even if he risked complete magical exhaustion. Harry smiled weakly. Perhaps there would be no power to transfer if he burned himself out. He was slipping into unconsciousness, all he could feel was the pain as he forced the last bit of magic within him out through the Promise Ring to cocoon them both for as long as possible. He tried vainly to open his eyes, to draw a breath into his burning chest, but failed. As the darkness closed over him, he thought he heard the sounds of a battle around him – curses solidly hitting flesh rather than shields, shrieks and cries, new familiar voices thundering curses.

He heard a ferocious growl, but somehow Harry could tell that it wasn't directed at him. "Sirius," he murmured faintly, absent-mindedly pushing the last bit of energy he could find into the shield. "You're here."

Then he passed out.

_To be continued..._

**A/N:** I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! But you have to admit, it's not as bad a cliffhanger as the last chapter! It'll be about Tuesday or Wednesday when I get chapter 40 up; you see, it's not entirely written yet. I'm having a lot of trouble with it, and I've got a paper to finish and an exam to do. I've been putting them all off to get my fanfiction done, but it's got to the stage where I have to put them first. I'm sorry! It's not because I'm evil, I promise, but I thought that you'd rather be left for a little while here than in any of the previous chapters... It looks like there's only going to be forty chapters and an epilogue in all - and I solemnly swear that I will get it up as soon as is possible once I've got Real Life out of the way. AND that this fic will most _definitely_ be completed before the fifth book comes out, even if I have to fail my exam to do it. I will _not_ leave an unfinished fic hanging over my head while I try to read the Order of the Phoenix!

Right: now I've got _my_ shameless grovelling out of the way, I would like to thank EVERYONE who reviewed me. I was absolutely overwhelmed by the response to my plea for reviews. One hundred and eight reviews for one chapter! (they're not all on the review board because some got deleted, I think - but I have them all in my inbox) Thank you all for this precious gift, even if it's only the one chapter you've reviewed. I've always wondered how many "silent readers" I have out there. I'll say it again - I'm completely overwhelmed. I am posting this chapter a little bit early. Thank you all.

Finally: Thank you to all those of you who have had a guess at the spy. I'm thrilled at the amount of thought some of you seem to have put into my story. Now for the list of White Lily Certified Gloaters (in order of appearance)...

**Ringo, Helen, Ookii Mamoru, GingerNinjia, Annika, Aurian, Willbot, bubbling bub bubbles, huntress**

I've used your internet names if you gave them, otherwise whatever it said in your sent line. Please let me know if I've missed anyone out. 

Hmmmm. I think these Authors' notes are getting longer... Thanks to everyone for reading!


	40. The Hospital Wing

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 40: The Hospital Wing**

The first thing Harry realised as he came slowly back to consciousness was that it must be all over. It seemed to be fully daylight and, since last time he checked it had been the middle of the night, a fair bit of time must have passed.

The second thing he noticed was that he was in the hospital wing. The crisp, white sheets were tucked in around him so tightly that he couldn't move. He struggled briefly to escape the confinement, but didn't manage to loosen the covers in the slightest. He gave up, feeling as weak as a day old kitten. He turned his head and saw the battered looking Muggle hat he had transfigured from the pain-relief cloth lying on the nightstand, along with his Invisibility Cloak and an enormous pile of sweets. His eyes automatically sought out his glasses and his wand, but he couldn't see either anywhere. He did, however, see the enormous black dog sleeping at the end of his bed, just out of reach of his feet.

He opened his mouth to call for help, but nothing came out except a croak so faint, he couldn't be sure he heard it at all. Then he was distracted by a voice from the other side of the curtain. "You must let go of the past, Severus," Dumbledore was saying. Harry could just imagine the aged headmaster looking seriously over his half-moon spectacles. "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

"I… I know, Headmaster." Snape sounded thoughtful and relaxed as he talked with the headmaster. Harry closed his eyes, feeling slightly guilty for eavesdropping on what was obviously a private conversation, even though there was nothing he could really do if he couldn't move or speak.

"I told you, all those years ago," said Dumbledore, "that I would give you a penance suitable to atone for your sins and that it may well lead to your death."

"And I replied that it would be impossible. Nothing could wash the blood of innocents from my hands. I longed for nothing more than death, but even death was too good for me. You gave me the perfect solution because I knew that I would die eventually, but when I did, it would be a _useful_ death."

"Do you still believe that?"

"Yes," replied Snape without hesitation. "But Potter took even that from me as he stared at me with Lily's eyes."

"Ah yes," said Dumbledore, "and there lies the crux of the matter. You want to hate young Mr. Potter for saving your life, but you cannot hate Lily."

There was a long silence, in which Harry tried wriggling again and managed to move his hand enough to loosen the sheets pinning him to the bed until he could worm one arm out. The effort exhausted him and he relaxed again.

"He is Lily's son," replied Snape with a sigh. "I could… I could _feel_ it. He had that – that relaxed aura of power as he spoke to me, exactly the same as Lily carried about her wherever she went. Those ridiculous glasses that Potter wears were gone and when I looked into his eyes, I saw not his father, but his mother. Is he…" Snape trailed off helplessly.

"He will eventually recover, I am sure," Dumbledore reassured him. "It was doubtful for a while; he sustained the shield for a full minute after he fell unconscious."

Snape drew in his breath sharply. "_How?_"

"He used _all_ his magic," replied Dumbledore gravely, "including his own life-force, to sustain that shield right to the end. Even Muggles have a little magic in them to keep their bodies running and he used it all, right down to the last drop. I feared that we were too late, especially since after Voldemort's followers fled, we had to finish breaking down the shield to get to you both. Now that we have restored enough magic in him to keep him breathing and his heart beating, it is only a matter of time before he recovers."

"Foolish boy," spat Snape. "Risking his life and the future of the wizarding world to rescue –"

"To rescue _you_, Severus. _You_. And _some_ people believe that it was worth the effort."

"Yes, sir," said Snape contritely.

"Why is it so hard to believe?" asked Dumbledore softly. "Lily would never have left you to madness and death. And James wouldn't have either."

"I know," replied Snape in a mournful voice. "If it's all the same, though, I would rather owe my life to Lily Evans than to James Potter."

"How about to _Harry_ Potter? He is neither of his parents, Severus. If you expect him to be Lily, you will be disappointed, as you were when you expected him to be James."

There was a long silence.

"You must let her go, Severus. You cannot keep holding on to this love you had for Lily. She has been dead for almost fifteen years. Don't you think that she would like to rest?"

"Yes," said Snape with a sad smile in his voice. "She would. I suppose…" There was a pause, then Snape sighed, a small, weary sound. "You do know, Albus, that if I had managed to get there just two minutes earlier, she would have lived."

"No," said Dumbledore firmly, "she would have died, and you would have as well. You did everything you could, Severus. No one, especially not Lily, could have asked any more of you. Your presence as a spy this past year has saved countless lives and I, for one, am glad that you lived. None of them would have had a chance without your timely warnings: the Johnsons, the Changs, the MacDonalds, the Madleys, the Quirkes, the Bones, the Pritchards – need I go on, Severus? We have lost only _four_ lives to the war in this past year – and two of them Death Eaters. Whether or not you managed to give your life for the cause, I consider your debt well paid.

"As for Lily… You could not have saved her, Severus. You did not fail her, I am certain that she would have been proud of you right now."

Silence reigned for a few moments before Snape sighed. "You're right," he said. "You're right, although I expect I will spend the rest of my life convincing myself. There _was_ nothing I could have done."

Harry sighed inwardly, thinking of the doomed romance between his mother and Snape, and shakily lifted his right hand in front of his face, close enough to focus on the silver ring on his finger. As he watched, the Promise Ring loosened into a perfect, tiny snake, looking almost liquid as it sailed up onto the back of his hand and raised itself up on its coiled tail. The minute silver tongue darted out to taste the air and its emerald eyes almost seemed to glow as they looked into Harry's eyes. "Goodbye, son of my heart's beloved," the Promise Ring hissed, then it seemed to flicker for a moment before dissolving in a cloud of silvery dust, spreading glittering fragments all over himself and the bed.

Harry let his hand fall back onto the covers and shakily wormed a foot through the tight covers to kick Sirius in the ribs from beneath the sheet. The enormous dog jerked awake with a growl, but froze as he met Harry's open eyes. Letting out one deep, joyful bark, he bounded up to the top of the bed and began thoroughly licking Harry's face from chin to hairline.

"Sssi–" whispered Harry, weakly attempting to push his godfather away. More light flooded in as the curtains around the bed were wrenched apart.

"That's disgusting, Black," snapped Snape. "If you keep that up you'll drown him!"

Sirius instantly changed into human form between one lick and the enormous hug in which Harry suddenly found himself being engulfed. "Don't you _ever_ do that to me again, Harry!" he growled, pulling back to glare at him. "_Attacking_ the ruddy _Dark Lord_! I've hardly slept for three days I've been so worried!"

"Three dah–?" asked Harry in a feeble voice, trying to force his vocal chords to make some sound.

"Harreeeee!" shrieked a childish voice. Tiny feet pattered across the room and Sally hauled herself up to sit beside Harry in bed, the same way she always had with Remus. One small chubby arm wound its way around his arm and she clutched him tightly. "You made me scared, Harry," she whispered faintly as Remus slowly struggled over behind her, leaning heavily on a cane.

"I'm afraid that we've _all_ been rather worried about you, Harry," said Dumbledore gravely. "You were fortunate to survive."

Harry hung his head. "I'm sorry, sir," he replied, strength returning slowly to his voice. "It would have worked, but I couldn't just let Ginny…"

"Quite right, Harry," said Dumbledore with a sigh. "Quite right. It was, however, a very close call. I believe we all lost several years off our lives when Ginny appeared in my office with Pettigrew's body. Especially Ginny herself."

Harry couldn't answer. He tried to look away from the adults gathered around his bed, but there was nowhere to look. His throat was so dry and scratchy it seemed to have been packed with cotton, as his guilt threatened to overwhelm him. "Are…" he started, then he faltered to a stop and let his eyes slide closed. "I heard some fighting before I passed out. Is everyone all right?" he asked quietly.

"Professor McGonagall received a nasty knock to the head and Sirius had a broken leg, but they were both quite recovered within a day. Harry," said Dumbledore firmly. "Look at me."

Harry reluctantly opened his eyes, raising them to meet Dumbledore's gaze, and started when he noticed that Dumbledore did not look nearly as stern as he had a few moments prior. In fact, even though Harry couldn't quite focus on the Headmaster's face without his glasses, he could have sworn that his eyes were twinkling!

"Your daring rescue of Professor Snape – and indeed your split-second decision to give Ginny your Portkey back to Hogwarts – has had far-reaching positive consequences of which you may not be aware. When we arrived to rescue you, we found that Voldemort had fled, leaving his Death Eaters to finish you off."

"Why did Voldemort leave?" asked Harry curiously.

"It is an intriguing question," replied Dumbledore softly, "and one of the first I asked our captured Death Eaters. It seems that my theory about your connection to Voldemort pooling your magic between the two of you was even more correct than I imagined. From what I understand, as you weakened and the pool of your magical power decreased, _the same thing happened to Voldemort_. So, when you began to approach exhaustion, so did Voldemort. I believe that he realised what was happening and decided that his best chance to achieve your death – and thus receive all your magical potential – was to leave and allow his Death Eaters to finish you off. Fortunately, we arrived in time to prevent that.

"The considerable effort that the Death Eaters expended on breaking down your shield and protecting themselves from rebounds weakened them to the point where when we arrived it was a very short fight. When it became obvious to them that they didn't have a hope of winning, all those who could still do so Disapparated, leaving behind four who were too exhausted to run. Those four Death Eaters have been apprehended and dosed with Veritaserum, giving us irrefutable evidence of Voldemort's return.

"Minister Fudge has acknowledged Voldemort's return and been inducted into the Order of the Phoenix – the group of men and women who, under my leadership, intend to combat Voldemort and bring an end to the conflict as quickly and easily as possible. The world now knows that it is at war and Voldemort is down by six Death Eaters, including the four we have captured and the two who have died."

Harry nodded, his guilt somewhat lessened by the fact that it had all worked out. "Should I try to exhaust myself more often then?" Harry asked curiously. "If it would weaken Voldemort …"

Dumbledore shook his head gravely. "You cannot keep yourself in a state of exhaustion until the end of the war, Harry. Despite the fact that it would be most unfair to _you_, you should know from your Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons that – similar to training your physical muscles – continually exhausting yourself magically is a way to increase your overall magical potential. If Voldemort or any of his minions should some day succeed in taking your life, this built up potential would become available to him, greatly reducing the chances of a victory against him.

"However," continued Dumbledore, "there is something that you can do to help. I would ask you to wear this at all times from now on." He handed Harry a medallion about the size of a small coin, featuring an enamelled picture of a phoenix. Harry removed the leather cord from around his neck and slipped the medallion on beside his parents' rings before looking up at Dumbledore expectantly.

"It does three things," said Dumbledore. "It will alert you whenever one of the members of the Order detects that it would be particularly helpful to incapacitate Voldemort. In this case – or if you have a vision that shows you this – simply touch the phoenix and say '_adficio_.' It will drain your powers almost completely, leaving you with just enough energy to stay conscious. Do take care to ensure that you are in a safe place before using it, however, as you will be quite defenceless once it has taken its toll."

Harry nodded solemnly. "Is there anything else, sir?"

"To Professor Snape's great disgust," said Dumbledore, his eyes once more twinkling merrily over the tops of his half-moon spectacles, "your actions have had yet another positive consequence that you have perhaps not considered." Dumbledore gestured to Sirius and Harry looked at him in confusion, before finally noticing the change. Despite the anger and worry in Sirius' eyes and the dark shadows under them from lack of sleep, his face seemed somehow less haunted.

"Pettigrew's body!" Harry suddenly remembered. "Sirius! Are you free?"

"Pettigrew's body alone wasn't enough to convince the Ministry," said Sirius. "But, sneaky bastard that he was, he'd written a full confession and charmed it to appear on the Weasleys' kitchen table in the event of his death."

The insult seemed somewhat less cutting than it would have been earlier in the year; instead of the intense loathing that had always been present when speaking of Wormtail, Sirius' voice was filled with deep regret and disappointment. "He didn't have the guts to hand himself in, so we don't know whether he forgot about the confession or whether he consoled himself with the fact that after he was dead, at least one thing that he'd done would be put to rights. He'd obviously written it very soon after I was committed to Azkaban, in the middle of the night, while the Weasleys were asleep. He didn't think he had very long to live because he had pneumonia and he was too terrified to let anyone know who he was. The Weasleys had very limited resources to expend on the health of a rat, even if Percy _was_ particularly attached to it, but they obviously managed to pull him through. Fudge was even more worried about making sure that I was not a Death Eater after finally being convinced of Voldemort's return, but even he couldn't deny the parchment with Pettigrew's confession on it as well as the Dark Mark on his dead body."

"But… you're really free?" asked Harry anxiously pulling himself up to a half-sitting position. "I don't have to go back to the Dursleys?"

"Yes, Harry," grinned Sirius. "I'm really free. And you'll never have to live with the Dursleys again."

Harry leant back on his pillow feeling a sudden bliss spread through him from head to toe.

"One more thing has come of this, Harry, for which I am very grateful to you," said Dumbledore. "I am most relieved to have made it through almost an entire year without the need to take out advertisements in the _Daily Prophet_ for a teaching position. It would have been immensely difficult to replace Severus as a Potions Master, a teacher, and as a friend - although your classmates may not see that in quite the same light!"

Snape scowled – more at the compliments, Harry thought, than the reference to the fear he inspired among the students.

"I'm glad you're all right, Professor," said Harry softly. "What was it you did that gave me that extra burst of energy?"

"I lent you my own magical power," sneered Snape. "I may not be very powerful when compared to precious Harry Potter, but using the ring as a bridge I could pass control of what I had over to you." Sirius growled warningly, but Snape simply ignored him. "From what I hear, it seems that it was just enough. I, of course, Potter, was not _foolish_ enough to tie up my own _life-force_ in the shield!" Snape's voice was thick with indignation and Sirius growled again, a deeper, more dog-like sound and, even though he was in human form, he was seemingly considering tearing Snape's throat out with his teeth.

It was interesting, Harry thought mildly, what a near death experience with someone will do to let you see things from their point of view. After the situation with Hermione and the troll in the girls' bathroom, it had been rather difficult to go back to viewing her as just a stuck-up, bossy know-it-all. After looking into Snape's eyes in the heat of battle, as they glowed strangely with the reflected light of the latest barrage of Unforgivables, it was easy for Harry to see the guilt, pain, and worry lingering there, even hidden behind the familiar sneer.

Harry held up a hand, bringing Sirius' attention to him. "Don't, Sirius," he said softly. "I'll explain later." He turned back to Snape. "Thank you, Professor. I hope you are doing all right?"

Snape's sneer didn't falter, but his eyes glittered in amusement. "Tolerably well, Potter. I'll leave you to your friends and admirers, then, shall I?" Not waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and swept out, robes swishing melodramatically around him.

Harry just smiled.

***

"YOU IDIOT!" she screamed, sounding for all the world like a Howler. "YOU COMPLETE AND UTTER _MORON_! I thought you were _dead_, I thought I'd never _see_ you again, I would rather have _died_ than have you die in my place and, oh, Harry!" Ginny flung herself onto him, clutching him around the waist and burying her face in his chest. Harry, still fighting the tiredness brought on by complete magical exhaustion, brought up one trembling hand to touch Ginny's shoulder and the other to rest on his stinging cheek, where Ginny had slapped him as soon as she, Ron, and Hermione had been let into the ward.

He raised his eyes to Ron, who rolled his eyes and mouthed, "Girls!" then followed Hermione out as the couple made a hasty retreat.

"Ginny," soothed Harry. "I'm sorry. I scared you and I'm sorry. You scared me too – I thought I was going to lose you! And I'd never told you…" he blushed and stopped as Ginny raised her head from his chest.

"Told me what, Harry?"

"Did you know that you're the first person to ever say that to me?" asked Harry softly. "Well, I suppose my parents did, but I don't remember that. I don't remember anyone ever saying anything like that to me. I think I feel the same way about you, Ginny."

"What?" prompted Ginny, her smile seeming to light up her eyes, sweeping away any remnant of Harry's doubt.

He smiled back at her and said the words. Neither of them noticed when Madam Pomfrey came in a few minutes later to tell Ginny that it was time to leave. The corners of the motherly matron's mouth quirked briefly and she quietly backed out, shutting the curtains behind her.

_To be continued..._


	41. The OWLs

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**A/N**: One of my betas has asked me to tell you:

_In order to get these last two chapters back to The White Lily before the 21st, I had to rush my edits. If you somehow feel these chapters are lacking, it is because of my rush and the The White Lily's long writer's block. But please come after me and not her. : ) I hope you had as much fun reading this story as I did working on it with The White Lily. ~ Iviolinist_

I disagree with her about whose fault any errors are, but nonetheless, we both wanted this fic finished by the 21st, so here you are. The last two chapters... 

**Chapter 41: The O.W.Ls**

Since Harry's wand and glasses had not been recovered from Voldemort and Ginny and Sirius' wands had both been broken, the three went for a brief trip to Diagon Alley as soon as Harry was strong enough to walk around. _The Daily Prophet_ had announced Sirius' innocence over a week beforehand, but Sirius still received some disbelieving looks from the few witches and wizards who recognised the laughing and smiling man escorting Harry as the feared Azkaban escapee. Harry found himself fingering the Portkey back to Dumbledore's office on his collar nervously.

They visited Sophia's Superior Spectacles first, so that Harry would actually be able to see what he was doing, and for the first time in Harry's life he was actually allowed to choose his frames. The sleek gold and silver frames Sirius suggested, however, looked so strange on his face that he could hardly recognise himself and so, flattening his hair nervously over his scar, Harry asked the shop assistant if they had any black frames.

"Ah," she replied, "I think I know what might appeal to you. Our "boy who lived" range of spectacles has been very popular with the young people recently – ever since Harry Potter came to Hogwarts with his rather unique style of glasses." Harry heard Sirius make a half strangled sound that could have been a suppressed laugh, while Ginny began coughing very suspiciously, but the shop assistant was unperturbed, opening a drawer near the front of the shop with twenty or so different black-framed, round-rimmed, glasses and plucking out a pair.

"There you go, dear," she said, placing the frames on Harry's face and tapping them with her wand to make the Prescription Charm adjust to his eyes. "You could almost pass for Harry Potter once you get a bit taller, you know, with your dark hair and those green eyes. All you need is a scar in the middle of your…"

The shop assistant had reached out a hand and brushed Harry's fringe away from his forehead, then stopped in sudden, shocked realisation. Sirius howled, Ginny doubled over with laughter and even Harry couldn't resist a wry grin. The presence of his godfather and girlfriend, who were obviously not jealous and found the situation absolutely hilarious, made him feel comfortable with his fame for the first time despite his horror at the idea of an entire range of glasses modelled on his own.

"I guess I'd better get these ones then," he said slyly. "I wouldn't want to make you change your whole range!"

Harry payed the awed and profusely apologetic shop assistant, as Sirius was still helpless with laughter, but a few minutes later it was with some trepidation that they stepped into the darkly lit and creepy interior of Ollivander's. If Ollivander was one of those who disbelieved Sirius' innocence, he might refuse to give him a wand. But their fears were unfounded, as Mr. Ollivander greeted them all with recitations of the characteristics of their old wands, reacted with dismay to their fates, and set about finding them all new ones immediately.

Ginny and Sirius both managed to find new wands fairly quickly, but Harry didn't seem to be suited to any wand in the shop. One produced a few half-hearted gold sparks as Harry waved it vigorously, and Ollivander set it aside with an odd look. When, what seemed like hours later, Harry had tried every wand in the shop that was even remotely possible, Ollivander sighed and turned to Harry. "Your wand has not relinquished its claim on you," he said softly. "No wand will chose you while your old wand is still capable of serving you. This one will do the job for you for the time being, but I do hope that you will eventually get your old wand back. Seldom have I seen a better match than between you and that wand and I believe that nothing short of its destruction will break its connection to you."

With those ominous words, Ollivander wrapped up all three wands and accepted payment.

***

When Harry was finally released from the infirmary, it was time for the O.W.Ls. Harry had spent his last few days in the infirmary trying to catch up with all the revision he'd missed and hoping that his imperfect wand and exhaustion wouldn't lower his scores too much. Hermione, having started studying so early, irritated everyone else in the common room by chanting long and complicated sequences of information under her breath that far exceeded anyone else's understanding. Even Ron had buckled down in Harry's absence and began to study properly. The tests went on for six days and during this time the common room was a quiet and sombre place every evening, as it was not only time for the O.W.Ls, but the seventh year N.E.W.Ts as well. Two first years who had begun to play a loud game of Exploding Snap the night before the first day of testing spent three days in the infirmary regaining their voices after being simultaneously hit by five silencing charms.

By the time Harry finished up his last test, the only exhaustion plaguing him was a bone-deep pain in his right hand from continually writing, swishing, flicking, and stirring. If this was the O.W.Ls, he could hardly imagine what the N.E.W.Ts would be like!

Both the O.W.Ls and the N.E.W.Ts were graded magically overnight and each student received a sealed envelope at breakfast the morning after the exams were completed, stating their marks. Harry, to his great relief, had managed to get high scores, mainly thanks to his exceptional marks in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Ron was pleased with his scores as well, having done almost as well as Percy and certainly better than the twins had done. Hermione, of course, did brilliantly, topping the class and (according to _Hogwarts: A History_) surpassing the highest score ever recorded.

She was literally floating on air when Ron found out about it and cast a Levitation Charm on her, yelling, "Behold the smartest witch ever!" and attracting every eye in the hall. Hermione went bright red and begged to be let down as the Gryffindors bust into thunderous applause, followed by the Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and a few of the Slytherins. When she finally floated back down to her seat, glowing with pride and embarrassment, she slapped Ron affectionately on the shoulder, chiding him at his unrepentant grin.

It was Fred and George, however, who really created pandemonium. They had been uncharacteristically quiet for the latter half of the year while busy working on jokes to keep their family afloat and had become almost unrecognisable when studying for their N.E.W.Ts. Once the N.E.W.Ts were over, however, they struck out more exuberantly than ever in the form of absolutely hilarious pranks.

No one was safe from the twins' inventions; fake wands, Drenching Drops, Midget Mints, Mud Mortars, Giant Jelly, and even the classic Canary Creams were turning up all over the castle, to the great embarrassment of everyone, students and teachers alike. The twins even managed to convince Madam Pomfrey to accept a Fire Belching Brownie, causing Sally to shriek with laughter as the "dragon-lady" breathed fire. Gryffindor Midas sweets – which made everything the consumer touched, including their clothes, turn red, gold, or a combination of the two – somehow found their way into the Slytherins' dinner one evening. The following night it was the Ravenclaws turn, as all their food was enchanted to plead for its life and flee whenever anyone attempted to spear it with a fork.

By the last day at Hogwarts, the worst of the twins' pranks were over and things were getting back to normal at Hogwarts. Even the Hufflepuffs, some of whom had been refusing to eat for fear of the Weasley twins' final prank, could not resist tucking whole-heartedly into the sumptuous Leaving Feast. Despite what he and Harry had gone through together, Snape still sneered every time he looked at Harry and scowled when Gryffindor won the House Cup again despite the twins' best efforts. However, there seemed to be a little less hatred in his steely glare and Harry could have sworn he saw a glint of hastily smothered amusement in his eyes when all the Hufflepuffs (including Professor Sprout) simultaneously developed rabbit ears and cotton tails.

All in all, Harry was in an excellent mood as he returned to Gryffindor tower for his last night at Hogwarts. Remus had finally recovered from his silver poisoning and accompanied Sirius and Sally back to his house. Sirius was going to pick him up from Kings Cross Station the next day and Harry couldn't have been happier to leave Hogwarts; perhaps because it was the first time he was actually going to go somewhere that he considered to be _home_. He was going to miss Ginny dreadfully, but Remus had a Floo connection, so he could talk to her or even visit as often as he liked. It was with these happy thoughts running through his mind that he finally fell asleep.

***

The circle of Death Eaters and Voldemort were gathered in a large, opulently furnished bedroom. The couple that had obviously been occupying the bed up until the time when Voldemort arrived were kneeling on the floor, trembling with fear. "You will regret this, Fudge," said Voldemort in a mockingly melancholy voice. "You and your wife will both suffer for letting the public know about my return."

Fudge raised his face and met Voldemort's eyes. "I was wrong," he said stoutly. "I deserve anything you intend to deal out for being such a fool as to disbelieve Dumbledore in the first place. Kill me and someone more worthy will take my place. Kill me. The Order of the Phoenix will rise from the ashes. The Phoenix never dies."

Voldemort began to laugh as four Death Eaters moved forward and roughly pinned Fudge to the ground. "If only it were that easy, Fudge. The war has begun once more. There will be no boy who lived this time, there will only be death, destruction, purity, and power. Make sure to scream nice and loud, Fudge, this is for Dumbledore and his precious Order of the Phoenix."

Pulling a red sheet of parchment out of one pocket, Voldemort tapped it with his wand and spoke a brief incantation before holding the newly made Howler above Cornelius Fudge's mouth and holding out both his and Harry's wands together. "_Crucio!_"

Hundreds of miles away, Harry Potter woke up screaming.

_To be continued..._


	42. Epilogue

**The Promise Ring - by The White Lily**

**Chapter 42: Epilogue**

Harry was bored. Of course, it was his birthday, so it wasn't totally unusual for him to be bored, but he refused to do homework on his birthday if it wasn't necessary. Instead, he was sitting in the lounge room, fairly wallowing in his boredom. It was the first chance he'd really had to get bored so far; this summer had not been all that different to the previous ones in the overall scheme of things, it was just the little things that had changed.

He had still had to do his homework, but he had been able to do it at the kitchen table, asking for help from Sirius or Remus when he wanted clarification on anything. He still helped out with the gardening, the cooking, and the dishes, but that was just taking his turn at the chores rather than being an unpaid servant to a group of people who hated him. But it was of the regular visits to his friends that Harry was most appreciative. He hadn't seen Hermione since they had left Kings Cross Station, but he had seen Ron and Ginny almost every day and that completely took boredom from his mind.

Then there was Sally. Having a little sister was everything Harry had ever imagined. Harry grinned, remembering the scene at breakfast. Today was orientation day for Sally's new magical primary school and she had been so excited that morning that she could hardly sit still. None of them had been able to convince her to wear anything other than her new school robes for the first week after they had purchased them from Diagon Alley and she had turned up in the kitchen that morning with them on again, buttoned up slightly askew.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" she'd sung, before climbing up onto a chair and picking up her spoon, allowing Harry to pour milk onto her cereal for her. Her eyes bulged as she spotted the pile of brightly wrapped presents on the table. "You haven't opened your presents yet, Harry!" she said accusingly.

"I was waiting for you to wake up, sleepyhead," he had replied, ruffling her messy hair and pushing his cereal bowl away. He had reached for the first present and slowly unwrapped it, savouring the moment of unwrapping a real present in the presence of his family and then laughingly surrendered to Sally's orders to unwrap faster.

A sudden, sharp pain in his scar brought him back to the present, making him wince, and he fingered the pendant that he wore around his neck, wondering what Voldemort was doing. Besides the happiness of the last few weeks at home, he now understood what Sirius had tried to tell him over a year ago about the fear of living in war time: people disappearing, perhaps forever, perhaps to turn up again tortured to insensibility or under the Imperius Curse; people dying, magical and Muggle alike; the Ministry, now headed up by Arthur Weasley, trying desperately to get things under control, to mount attacks on the Death Eaters' headquarters, but every week in _The Daily Prophet_ was another sighting of the Dark Mark, more people's lives torn apart. And now Voldemort was using Harry's wand, as well. It was all his…

"Harry!" called a voice from the fireplace and Harry hurried over to see Ginny's head in the fire. "Happy birthday!" she cried. "What are you up to?"

"Not much," shrugged Harry. "Sirius and Remus have taken Sally to her school orientation, so I'm alone in the house. Thanks for the present by the way!"

"Not a problem!" said Ginny. "Why don't you come over for a while, if you're bored?"

Harry leapt at the opportunity and, scribbling a quick note to Sirius and Remus in case they came home early, he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and tossed it into the fire.

He had got much better at Floo travel through practice over the summer and managed to stay on his feet as he staggered out of the hearth in The Burrow. "SURPRISE!" came the shout of many voices and Harry looked around at the garish decorations hung all about, with "Happy Birthday Harry" painted on a large banner hanging across the wall in front of him. He looked at the glowing faces all around him: all the Weasleys, Hermione, Sirius, Remus, and Sally. This was his family.

If he allowed himself to be overwhelmed with the problems in the world, Voldemort had already won. This was what mattered: family, love, and _life_. He would live. They would all live and fight so that they might live without fear.

_~fin~_

_Thank you to all those who everyone who reads my story, whether you review or not. If I hadn't had you all out there, I'm not sure that I would have pushed myself so hard to get this finished before the Order of the Phoenix, and then I probably wouldn't have finished it at all. Your support, feedback, encouragement, and sometimes downright slave-driving have supported me through writers block and through the times when the ideas were simply leaping from my head onto the page, through boredom and through a real life so busy that I hardly had time to sleep, let alone write! Thank you all. _

_I couldn't possibly have done this enormously long fic without the love and support of my long-suffering boyfriend and life-partner who, despite looking remarkably like Harry Potter (messy black hair, green eyes, and glasses) and despite his complete and utter bewilderment at my obsession with said Harry Potter, has always provided his full support to whatever I put my hand to, even if it does take up a disturbing portion of my life. _

_And finally I would like to thank my betas. You are all the most superb people on earth, some of you with a frightening memory for canon capitalisation, some with a wonderful insight into what might be likely to be misunderstood, some of you with a disturbing paranoia of commas and prepositions, some of you whose comments always made me laugh, some with an uncanny knack for picking up repeated words, some of you who always picked up my worst Out of Character moments with tact and humour (Stop laughing, Liz! Malfoy is not chilling in a tree anymore! All right? : )), and some of you who were just there for me through good reviews and bad, through frustration and elation, through plot holes and smooth sailing, through everything, right from the beginning. You each know which refers to you. Three cheers for Amazing Liz, Charlotte, and Kat! _

_There will not be a sequel. There may be assorted out-takes or extensions, for example a Wormtail POV that I'm currently working on, and these may be inspired by requests from readers, but there will not be a full scale sixth year sequel. To quote the Hogwarts school song, my head is now "bare and full of air, dead flies and bits of fluff." Which is not good, because I've got an exam this afternoon. : )_

_Thank you all once more. This has been the experience of a lifetime, and I am ever so glad that when the plot bunny first nibbled at my toes, I did not kick it, but nurtured it and let it grow. I hope that my story has, in some small way, managed to enrich your lives, lift your heart, provoke your thoughts, fire your imagination, or at least ease the wait for the fifth book. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did._

_The White Lily._


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